


darling i've waited to greet you

by Sporks



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Brainwashing, Emotional Manipulation, Feminization, Fluff, Kidnapping, Knotting, M/M, Makeup, Mating, Mommy!Stiles, Mpreg, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shaving, Somnophilia, Stiles is 17, Stockholm Syndrome, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:13:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sporks/pseuds/Sporks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek kidnaps Stiles because he knows that Stiles will make the perfect mate, wife, and mother of his children.</p><p>Stiles can't make it clear that he's <em>not a chick</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay. so. a couple things:
> 
> 1) the rape in this only happens once and I tried to keep it as not terrible sounding as possible. But it still is non-con so if that's a trigger for someone then please skip through the beginning of chapter two. But that's all.
> 
> 2) JUST LETTING YOU KNOW, i don't read that many stories with mating and knotting, and i thought it made the story work, SO, if you read through this and are like "wtf that is not how mating or mpreg work" I'M SORRY lol this is all just a figment of my own imagination and doesn't even happen in real life anyway so i just wrote the mating, knotting, and mpreg how i wanted it to go. i'm not clueless on it though so it's not too obscure.
> 
> 3) ALSO, Derek is the only werewolf in this story, meaning Scott and everyone else are not werewolves and no one knows about them.
> 
> I think that's it. Enjoy!!!

Stiles is _pretty_ sure he didn’t get hit by a bus, but that’s kind of what it feels like when he wakes up.

His brain feels like it’s replaced with scrambled eggs and his body is the equivalent to jello.

God dammit, why does he always let Scott talk him into breaking into the Schnapps? But it was _peach flavored._ It may have been the gayest choice, but it’s fucking good. Whenever he drinks with Scott he usually regrets it in the morning. The grinding headache should be a reminder to put away the vodka but whatever. The weirdest part is, he doesn’t even have a headache. In fact, he feels nothing. Just kind of a fuzzy feeling in the front of his skull.

He hasn’t opened his eyes yet. He knows what he’s going to see; a snoring, half naked Scott with his hands down his boxers.

He opens his eyes anyway and… Well. This isn’t his room. This isn’t Scott’s room. What the fuck did they _do_ last night?

He looks around, and the room seems normal enough; a smooth wooden dresser, a bedside table, a closet…

Whose room is this? And why is he in it?

He lifts his abnormally loose limbs to rub at his sleep-crusted eyes, except… His arm isn’t really cooperating with him. _The hell?_

Did Scott lace his vodka for shits and giggles? He is going to _kill him._

“Very funny, Scott,” he yells out into the empty room. “Ha ha this is hilarious, I love feeling like I’m cooked spaghetti. Get your ass in here! Where the hell are we? I’d be easier on you if it was Lydia’s room but trust me, I know what—”

The bedroom door opens and before Stiles can verbally pound Scott into the ground, he sees someone that is definitely not Scott.

“Um. Hey?” He tries.

The man looks at Stiles like he’s Obama, eyes sparkling and smile wide. “Hey, hi. I’m so glad you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Stiles kind of just… _Stares._ The guy is fucking broad, like. Shoulders the width of goal posts and chest looking extremely not soft like Stiles’. He has the whole manly scruff thing going on, too.

“How am I… What? Who the hell are you, man? Where’s Scott? And who’s room is this?” He feels twitchy, like just laying here is making him feel incredibly exposed, even though he’s dressed.

“I’m Derek. Scott is at his home. And this is our room.” He says it all with such a genuine smile and Stiles heart is starting to pick up speed.

He disregards the last bit. This guy probably means it’s him and his girlfriend’s room. “Um. Okay, _Derek._ Can you please tell me what the fuck is going on? You’re kind of freaking me out, and I’m sure you’re great and all but I kind of need to get back home so Scott knows I’m okay.” The _even though I can’t move a fucking pinky_ is left unsaid. Derek doesn’t need to know that right now.

Derek keeps _smiling_ at him. Even as he comes closer to sit down on the side of the bed by Stiles’ legs. “Sorry, I should have explained. This is your home now. You’re going to be my mate, my wife, the mother of my, or _our,_ babies. This is how it’s supposed to be, and I’m so happy you’re finally here with me.” He beams at Stiles and places a firm hand on Stiles’ thigh, rubbing up and down. If Stiles’ legs were working he would flop off the bed because _what in the fuck?_

His tactics for dealing with terrifying situations that he doesn’t know how to respond to or handle kicks in. He laughs and says, “Hilarious. Scott put you up to this, huh? Wait, no, he only knows me and like, three other people. I bet it was Jackson. It was, wasn’t it? This is pretty out of the box for him, I pictured him more of the cookie-cutter type of pranker. Maybe a ‘putting a fake skeleton in the closet’ kind of thing. Where’s Ashton Kutcher to come tell me I’ve been Punk’d? The drugging part was a bit much though, if you want me to be honest.”

The guy’s face goes through ten different emotions. First his eyebrows shoot up, then furrow, and then he’s smiling. Again. He pats Stiles’ thigh.

“Stiles honey, I know this is a lot to take in, but I promise you will be so happy after I knot you. You’ll finally recognize that you were meant to be my mate, my wife.”

 _Knot him?_ Is this guy a fucking _dog?_ Stiles may or may not throw up. He kind of hopes he doesn’t because he can’t move to his side and he doesn’t want to die from choking on his puke. The room might be spinning a little but he’s going to ignore that, too. “I—Uh. Look, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m _not a chick._ The fact you’re creeping the shit out of me is almost being overrided by the blow to my masculinity. Stop calling me your wife.”

Derek smiles softly at him, his eyes glistening with something that looks a lot like fondness and Stiles doesn’t _get it._ “You’re beautiful to me, Stiles. I’ve been watching you for nearly two years. I knew you were the one for me, I could feel it. I knew you were my mate. I could just picture us together, playing with our children, making dinner together, waking up to you every morning. And now I finally have you, and you can be mine. My wife and the mother of my children.”

Stiles isn’t really a crier. When he’s in a stressful situation, like the time him and Scott got lost in the woods two hours away from Beacon Hills, or the time Scott had an allergic reaction to crab. His face just kind of burns up, but he never cries out of stress or frustration. That’s why when Stiles feels a hot tear fall on his cheek and Derek leans in to wipe it away with his thumb, he knows he’s fucked.

“Listen, man,” his voice cracks. “My dad. M-my dad is—”

“The sheriff, I know, baby. You don’t need to worry about him.”

_Breathe, Stiles. Remember all those techniques your therapist told you to prevent a pending panic attack._

He takes a deep shudder of a breath. “Just—” he clears his throat. “Please tell me you’re not going to hurt him. Tell me he’ll be fine. And so will Scott.”

Derek smiles at him, pets his burning cheek. “Of course I won’t hurt them. Everything is going to be okay, Stiles. You’re going to be taken care of so well. My beautiful, beautiful wife.”

 _Beautiful wife._ “You can’t do this to me. I need to go home. I’m not your wife, I’m not your mate. My dad— He’ll find me. He will. You can’t keep me here forever.”

Derek strokes his knuckles gently up and down Stiles’ useless arm. “I’m not worried about your dad. And you’ll learn to accept this. I promise, sweetie. I can’t wait to see how well you’ll take my knot. We’ll finally be mates.”

 _Knot._ There’s that fucking word again. “What the fuck are you high on, buddy? Is this actually a crack house? Stop talking about knots unless you’re talking about Knotts Berry Farm.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrow again, like he’s not seeing what Stiles sees. “I— What? I think it’s time someone got some food in them, huh? You must be starving. You’ve been asleep for nearly thirty-six hours, baby.”

 _Thirty-six—_ “You can’t be serious. I’ve been sleeping in this room for _two days?”_ He doesn’t mention that a missing person report has probably been filed by his dad by now. He’ll find him. He will.

“Yeah, you were pretty out, honey. You’ll get feeling back in your body within the hour I bet,” Derek says, and he’s still smiling at Stiles. Stiles wishes he would just stop with the smiling. “I’ll go get you some food. Anything specific you want?” _For you to be castrated,_ he doesn’t say. Instead he just shakes his head no. Derek walks out the door with a smile still on his face.

 

Stiles is scoping out the room with his mediocre eyesight, trying to find something, _anything,_ that he could use to his advantage for when his legs and arms are fully functioning. So far he can roll his ankles and wrists and curl his fingers. At least it’s something.

He’s trying to figure out a way to position a clothes hanger that would be most affective in stabbing Derek’s eyes out, when the man himself comes strolling in with a plate of Kraft mac n’ cheese, a ham sandwich, and baby carrots. Well, how adorable.

“I hope this is alright,” Derek says quietly as he places the plate on Stiles lap.

He sets a glass of water on the bedside table. “When you get complete feeling back in your body, you should probably drink the water first. I didn’t drug it or anything, but it’ll make you feel better. I’ll give you some space. I’ll be back in an hour, enjoy your food.” He runs his fingers through Stiles’ short hair and moves in to kiss the top of his head, but Stiles’ ducks. Derek hums and quietly walks out of the room, closing and probably locking the door.

He can move his arms weakly twenty minutes later, and _God_ it feels good. His muscles feel like he’s just gone to the gym for ten hours without stopping.

He’s thirsty. He didn’t want to admit it, but he’s fucking thirsty. He glances at the water cup next to him. It looks normal, nothing cloudy in the water, and Stiles _really_ wants to believe that Derek didn’t drug the water.

Fuck it, he’s _parched._

He grabs the water with both hands, feeling like his seventy year old grandma with arthritis as he lifts the glass to his lips and _fuck that’s awesome._ Even after the thirty minutes of him contemplating drinking the water, it’s still cold going down Stiles throat, sitting weirdly in his empty stomach.

He looks at the food that’s been warming his lap. _Mac n’ cheese._ He fucking loves mac n’ cheese.

He wants to stay defiant, something about his whole _The man can’t shut me down_ mindset. But it looks _so good._ One bite won’t hurt, of course. It’ll be like he never even touched it.

 

Except he eats the entire thing, because, well, he hadn’t eaten anything in the past two days. Yeah, that’s his excuse. The same excuse for why he ate the sandwich and the carrots, too. But who cares.

He doesn’t feel any different, he’s not dizzy now and his mind is a little less fuzzy. Except now he’s so thrilled about his full belly that he forgot that his legs and arms _work_ now. He’d do a happy dance if his legs were strong enough.

He sits up and tries to get off the bed, but his muscles are still too stiff to do anything productive besides eat. Awesome. And as if on queue, Derek unlocks the door and waltzes in, all smiles and tallness and darkness and muscles. Double awesome. “Hey, honey, how was your food? You must have been really hungry.”

Stiles looks down at his hands. “It was… Okay.” It was fucking great, but Stiles isn’t going to tell him that.

Derek laughs lightly, “Well, you cleared the plate so I’ll take that as a compliment.” Derek takes the plate away and sets it on the dresser. “Do you feel any better?”

Stiles’ nods.

“That’s great to here, sweetie. Now I know how much you want to run away, which means my girl isn’t going to relax and get a good nights sleep, so I’ll help you out, okay? Just stay calm.”

He pulls a rag out of his back pocket and _fuck_ he’s seen enough crime shows to know that that rag’s got something on it to knock him the fuck out and “No, no, no, please don’t—I’ll go to sleep, please—”

“Sh.” Derek attempts to soothe him as he sits down next to Stiles on the bed. “This is only to help you get a good nights sleep. It’s not going to hurt you, baby, I promise.”

Stiles lifts a weak arm to try and get a hand around Derek’s wrist, but he’s too slow, and Derek’s pressing the rag gently to his nose and mouth and—

He’s out within seconds.

He dreams of wedding dresses.

~

When Stiles wakes up, light is streaming through the blinds and he can still move his arms and legs.

Except when he tries, he realizes they’re strapped to the bed. _Rad._

“Fuck,” is really the only thing he can think of to say.

It takes him a little bit longer to register that he’s wearing different clothes. He’s wearing only briefs— Wait. Wait, no. These aren’t even briefs. They’re fucking girl’s pajama shorts. And he’s not wearing a shirt.

He doesn’t know whether he’s more disturbed by the fact Derek touched him and removed his clothes while he was sleeping or the fact that he’s wearing _girl’s short shorts._

The door opens and a happy looking Derek walks in. “Speak of the devil,” Stiles mutters. If Derek heard he’s not showing it.

“Morning, beautiful. I hope you slept well.”

"Oh, I slept just peachy,” he spits out. “And I love waking up to being practically naked. What’s with the shorts, fucker? Run out of clean clothes so you had to scrounge through your little sister’s closet?”

Derek laughs. He _laughs._ “No, no. My little sister never wore anything this cute. I got them just for you. I can’t wait to show you everything else I have for you.”

“Oh, I _can’t wait,”_ he growls.

His skin feels kind of weird. Like he’s more naked than he actually is. He feels a draft.

He looks down at the short shorts again and notices it. His legs are… His legs are _bare._ No leg hair. He has _no leg hair._

“I— What the _fuck did you do?”_ He yells. “What the fuck have you done to me?”

Derek sits down on the bed next to Stiles and Stiles jerks up, but he’s fucking trapped with these restraints on him and he’s fucking _hairless._ “Sh, sh, sh. It’s okay, baby. I just got rid of all that ugly hair while you were asleep, nothing bad. Now you’re all smooth.” Stiles whole arm erupts in goosebumps as Derek runs his fingers up and down it and _fucking shit his arms are as bare as a baby’s._

“It’s all gone. How nice is that?” Derek rubs circles into Stiles’ chest and Stiles squirms. He— no, he couldn’t have. He looks down warily at his chest and _he fucking did._

“ _You fucking dickwipe_ it took me seventeen god damn years for me to grow those chest hairs! It was the only thing I had that I could impress chicks with!”

Derek just smiles at him. “Well good thing you don’t need to impress anyone anymore. Especially me, you’re perfect without the hair.”

He’s going to cry. He definitely thinks he’s going to cry. He doesn’t feel a draft on his head, so at least there’s that. “If I’m so perfect without hair than why’d you leave the hair on my head?” He’s really hoping Derek doesn’t reply with _Oh don’t worry that’s next._

Derek looks at Stiles’ head like he wants to marry it. “I love your hair, Stiles. Just not the body hair. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t have all that body hair. Your actual hair will get nice and long before you know it.”

Fuck, he remembers his skater phase in fourth grade where he didn’t let his dad take him to get his hair cut for, like, a year and it reached his shoulders by the time his dad forced him to cut it before his fifth grade yearbook photo. He swore he would never let that happen again and _Derek’s fucking ruining his life._ Why him? Why did Derek take him? Why hasn’t he gotten raped yet? Why is he referring to Stiles as a fucking chick? God he wants his dad to find him already. Maybe if he’s good Derek will, like, let him call his dad or something, let him know he’s alright at least. Or somewhere close to alright. He’s grateful Derek hasn’t beaten him to a pulp or broken his anal virginity seal, but Stiles has no idea how long that will last. And that’s fucking terrifying.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: non-con bit at the beginning

(Five days later)

 

_There’s nothing Stiles loves more than playing tag with Scott. Scott is slow ‘cause of his asthma and it always gives Stiles an advantage. Stiles’ is the fastest runner in the third grade. Even faster than Jackson. It’s not like he brags about it or anything. (He totally does.)_

_“Scott, c’mon! I bet you can’t catch me!” He laughs. He nearly bails over a small ant hill but he triumphs, getting to his favorite tree and climbs up. “Can’t catch me up here, can you, Scott!”_

_Scott gets to the tree and bends over, hands on his knees as he pants. “Hey!” —pant— “Not fair!” —pant— “You know I suck at climbing trees!”_

_“Sucks for you!” He loves winning. He knows Scott will get pouty about it later so he notes to make sure to tell his dad to give Scott one of the bigger cookies that Scott and Stiles made that day. It’s only fair._

_He feels something jab at his butt. Scott is poking him with a fallen branch. How mature._

_“Hey don’t be a sore loser, Scotty, you know you’ll end up getting the bigger cookie!” He keeps jabbing the branch at his butt, his legs, his lower back. “Knock it off, Scott, I’m getting down.”_

_He keeps going. “I said knock it off or I’m telling my dad!”_

_“Such a good girl. So happy you’re here with me. My beautiful wife. Gonna take my knot so well. Breed you, fill you with my pups.”_

_Stiles’ heart races. “S-scott?”_

_He looks down and Scott’s not there. The jabbing continues and something white and soft looking is draping down. He looks down at himself and he’s wearing a wedding dress._

_He screams and falls off the tree._

 

He’s sweating when he wakes up. He’s on his side and his ass fucking _hurts._

“What the—”

“Sweetie, you’re awake. I’m just prepping you for your breeding. You’re going to look so good with my knot inside you, filled with my pups. _Our_ pups.”

Stiles whimpers and jerks forward. Derek has his fucking fingers in his ass and a death grip on his torso.

“Derek, Derek _please Derek let me go. Please.”_

Derek is panting down his neck, heavy and dirty. “It’ll feel really good soon, baby, I promise. You’ll take it so well, I know you will.”

Stiles is crying now. It’s like something in Stiles’ tear ducts just breaks and he’s sobbing. He doesn’t cry from the pain, though, he cries because Derek is trying to be _gentle._

“I think you’re ready, darling. Ready to take me now?” He asks as he strokes down Stiles’ arm.

“Derek,” Stiles whimpers. “Derek please stop. Please.”

“We’re almost there, baby.” He kisses the back of Stiles clammy neck and Stiles has lost the will to jerk away. He feels the head of Derek’s cock touch his sensitive hole and more tears stream down, salt catching on his lip. He _feels_ Derek in him, and he tries to shut it out. _Think of anything else. Anything. Baby squirrels. Baby pandas. Your house, dad, Scott. Them finding you. They’ll find you, they’ll find you, they’ll—_

Something kind of shifts then, inside of Stiles. It feels kind of like— “That’s my knot, Stiles. You feel it? It’s getting nice and big and after this you’ll finally be my mate. I can’t wait to see you with a swollen belly. You’ll look so beautiful with our pup inside you. You’re taking it so well.” He rubs Stiles’ tummy as he whispers all these promises in his ear. _You’ll be so happy, our baby will love his mommy so much, you’ll look so good carrying our baby. My wife, my wife, my wife. Mate, mate, mate. I love you, I love you, I love you._

His insides feel like they’re being ripped open from the inside out. Derek’s cock is _actually expanding inside of him._ Like a fucking dog. Stiles’ mind jumps to all the dumb shit him and Scott read about in their local mythological bookstore, he thinks about reading about knotting. Knotting. Mating. What the fuck else mates and knots then Were—

Stiles’ heart kind of stops beating. “You-you’re- you’re a—”

“Shh.” Derek places a finger to Stiles lips. Stiles _almost_ bites it. “I’m glad you figured it out, but you need to relax your body. My smart girl.”

A _fucking werewolf._ Him and Scott were obsessed with the idea when they were in middle school after reading those stupid books. They would go to the woods on the nights of full moons and bring fucking _night vision binoculars._ They’d call each other whenever one of them heard a wolf howl. He read about mating, how it was forever, about breeding, and how male pregnancies _worked._ This isn’t real. It isn’t possible and—

He feels Derek shift behind him, thankful he didn’t have to look into his eyes. He lays down, chest against Stiles damp back. He pulls Stiles close and wraps his arms around him. If Stiles concentrates hard enough on absolutely nothing, he can pretend Derek’s dick isn’t growing inside of him. The pain of the knot is dull now. _Think of home, think of home, think of home._

“You’re so beautiful, Stiles. Absolutely beautiful.”

When his body finally gives up, he falls asleep. He dreams about accidentally burning cookies in the oven.

~

When Stiles wakes up the next morning, the sun is piercing through the slits of the blinds. And he’s cold. He squirms a little bit, but he doesn’t want to open his eyes yet. He’s laying on his back, and Stiles _hates_ laying on his back. It’s fucking awkward. He flips on his side, feeling something wet slide down his thighs, and he’ll definitely be ignoring that for right now, and finally finds warmth. He hums happily and grabs on, rubbing his hand up and down, up and down, the warm, soft torso. It feels good, feels safe.

“Mmm.” Stiles feels the chest grumble beneath his ear and he almost smiles. “Morning, baby.” Derek rubs soothing circles into Stiles’ back and oh, _oh_ —

Stiles jerks up. _Why in the hell—_ “I-uh. Sorry, I was, um—”

Derek laughs quietly. “Sweetie, it’s okay, come lay back down.”

“Um.” Stiles never realized how _soft_ Derek is. And _warm._ “Yeah, okay,” he says sleepily. This is probably a prime time to make his escape, but. So much _effort._ He lays back down, head on Derek’s chest and just listens to his heart beat, listens as Stiles heart beats the same rhythm.

Except, this isn’t okay. Derek is the man who kidnapped him, took him from his home, _raped him_ last night.

He’s missing probably his only chance to get out of this hellhole. Derek is back to sleeping heavily underneath Stiles head and he needs to leave _now._

He slowly, slowly, slowly rolls out of bed, setting his feet quietly on the floor. His body is cold again, but he ignores it. _You can do this, Stiles,_ he tells himself. _Just open the door. Two doors, that’s it. Then you’re clear._ He opens the bedroom door easily enough. He doesn’t look around the house, as much as he wants to. He needs to make a clean break for it. He speed walks as quietly as his clumsy feet can manage and gets to the front door. He wants to cry from relief. _Save the tears, Stilinski. Cry when you get home._ He turns the lock. — _Was it really this easy this whole time?—_ He opens the door, looks behind him with a held breath, and doesn’t see Derek.

The door closes quietly behind him and _fucking yes, he made it._ And he’s… He’s somewhere. Somewhere with lots of trees and not many houses, but he does see some. Derek has actual neighbors. He takes a deep breath and runs. Runs and runs and runs. His third grade gym teacher would be insanely proud.

He turns around and looks back at the house as he runs and he could swear that the door looks open, but he ignores it and runs.

He slows down after three minutes because his stamina has gotten _weak._ He breaths heavily as he leans against the nearest tree. The farther he gets from the house, the weirder his stomach feels. It’s like that feeling when you leave for a trip but remember that you left something at home, but can’t think of what it is. His stomach is churning and he’s back to being cold again. It’s not even cold outside, the sun is beating hard on his face and it should feel good, but everything feels off.

His eyes are watering and he has no idea why he’s tearing up. Maybe because he’s naked outside? No, he’s streaked before. He was drunk, sure, but this feels different. Somewhere in the back of his brain is telling him to turn back, it’s not worth it. Stiles has no idea where he is. He could be in Beacon Hills or he could be on the other side of the country. Is it even worth it to try and get back home? _Of course it’s worth it_ , he reminds himself. Derek has neighbors. Sure they’re a bit far away, but they’re there. And they’ll tell Stiles where he is.

But then there’s Derek. Derek who’s in bed, the same bed that Stiles felt so warm in not even ten minutes ago. _The same bed he fucked you in._

_Your his mate._

He feels his forehead and it’s clammy with sweat. His chest feels chilled and he’s trying to keep moving forward but he _can’t._

He involuntarily whimpers, because he’s not finding help and he doesn’t know _why._

He feels the warmth before he even sees him.

“Stiles.”

Stiles turns to look at Derek through tear-blurred vision.

“Derek, I—” He’s cut off by a sob. He can’t help it.

“It’s okay, Stiles, come here.”

And he does, because he’s warm and it feels _nice._

He’s a blubbering mess on Derek’s chest, grey shirt going darker as tears stain it. “Derek, I-I’m sorry, I—”

“Shh, it’s okay. You were just scared, right? I’m here now, it’s okay.” He rubs circles into Stiles’ back.

And that shouldn’t make him feel better, it should make him want to punch Derek in the face and knee him in the balls, but he can’t. Not while Derek’s petting his hair soothingly and rubbing his back.

He knows what’s happened, though, that’s the thing. Or at least he thinks he knows. “Derek,” he murmurs. “This isn’t fair to me. This isn’t my life, I—”

“Hey now, shh. Of course it is. We’re mates, right? You need me just as much as I need you.” He says it so softly, he makes it sound okay. “I love you so much, darling. More than you know.”

“Derek,” Stiles barely whispers.

“Shh, let’s get back inside, okay?”

And Stiles keeps crying, because he knows that was his only shot at escaping. And he fucking blew it.

But he nods anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prego Stiles. get ready.

(Two weeks)

 

Derek is practically glowing with his love for Stiles’ new wardrobe he worked very hard on picking out. It consists of pink, light pink, and more pink. There are other light colors too, which are at least better than _pink._ There are no jeans, no dark colors. Derek pulls out everything: skirts, dresses, more girl’s pajama shorts, which, okay, those were kind of comfy the first time he found himself in them.

“You can put all that shit back because I am _not_ wearing a dress. Shave me all you want, whatever, but you can’t make me wear this shit.”

He knows it’s pointless to demand. Derek will make him wear anything he wants him to wear, simple as that. He’s been cooperating the past week or so, trying to keep Derek from getting angry at him. He doesn’t know what day it is but he does know that his dad is still looking for him.

“Aw, honey, you’ll look so pretty, though. Especially in this one.” He pulls out a lavender colored dress. It looks about knee length and it’s strapless. “I also made sure to buy you shirts and dresses that will be more comfortable to wear when you start showing. The shorts are nice and stretchy, too.”

 _Showing._ “Yeah, thanks but no thanks.”

“Alright then,” Derek says and he’s _smirking, fuck._ “I guess you’ll just have to go around naked all the time. Would you rather have no clothes on at all?”

Damn it, if this was any other time, like if he was at home playing video games or jerking off to pictures of Lydia then fuck yeah he would rather be naked. But he _really_ doesn’t want to strut around naked in front of this guy. He can’t think of anything more uncomfortable.

“I— That’s- that’s not fair!”

Derek smiles at him. He hands Stiles some pink shorts and a white shirt and _wow that’s soft._ At least he’s not forcing him in a dress right now.

“Fine.” He storms into the bathroom like an angsty teenage girl. He considers ripping them up but, like, the shirt is so soft.

 

Derek shows him the makeup next.

If Stiles wasn’t freaking out so much he would think about the look on the ladies in Sephora’s faces as Derek asked what kind of mascara they suggested.

Except Derek expects him to wear it. Lip gloss, mascara, blush. The works.

“Now I didn’t want to get you anything too dark, because you’ve got such pretty skin and you’re already beautiful without it. So I was thinking we could put this on you.” Derek walks up to him, lip gloss in hand and Stiles wants to spit in his face.

He doesn’t.

Instead he shudders out a breath as Derek carefully applies the lip gloss on his lower lip, then a small amount on his upper lip. The only reason he’s being easy about it is because he knows it’ll wipe off.

Derek leans back, admiring his work and smiles. “Okay. Now rub your lips together please.”

Stiles glares at Derek as he does, but then some gets in his mouth and _oh,_ it doesn’t taste that bad. Kind of makes his lips and tongue a bit tingly.

“Smells like strawberries,” he mumbles, and if Stiles didn’t know Derek had the hearing of a werewolf, he knows Derek wouldn’t tell what he had said.

“It does. I thought it smelled the nicest.” He kisses Stiles sticky lips and caresses his burning cheek. “Mascara next!”

Stiles groans as Derek attempts to coat his eyelashes with mascara. He feels like Derek is going to gouge his eye out, but he doesn’t. He looks at Stiles’ right eye, satisfied, and continues to the other eye.

“Okay, done.”

Stiles can’t help it, he whips his head over to the mirror and looks up close.

He… He looks…

“You look so beautiful, baby. Even more beautiful than usual,” Derek says from behind him, kissing behind Stiles’ ear and setting his hands on Stiles’ hips.

“I look weird. I look like a chick,” he grumbles.

“You look amazing. My beautiful wife.” Derek kisses his neck, his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Stiles wants to duck away, but he doesn’t. He feels kind of warm.

~

(One month)

 

He doesn’t try escaping again.

He’s kind of just… He doesn’t want to say _given up_ because that makes him sound like a pussy. But he’s… stopped caring.

Derek shaves him every two days. Shaves his arms, his face, his legs, his crotch. It’s… Soothing, kind of. It’s the only time Stiles feels the urge to ask Derek about himself. His siblings, his childhood, old school friends. Asking things like that keeps Stiles from going insane, he thinks. It reminds him that Derek has a life, or at least had a life, apart from Stiles.

Derek touches his stomach a lot. It should make Stiles feel squirmy, but it relaxes his nerves. Stiles is in denial about there being a living being inside of him, even though he has morning sickness like no tomorrow and he makes Derek cook him all kinds of weird shit that should make him feel nauseous but actually tastes really awesome, no matter how much Derek grimaces at Stiles scarfing it down. Pickles taste _amazing_ with marshmallow fluff, and no one can tell Stiles otherwise.

Derek doesn’t make him wear restraints anymore. When their “one month anniversary”, as Derek called it, hit, Derek kissed him and removed Stiles’ restraints from the bed posts and stuffed them away.

Stiles had no urge to leave.

~

(Two months)

 

Derek is just feeding him too much. Yep, that’s it. Just a little pudge. Doesn’t even matter how much Derek is staring at his stomach with the same damn smile plastered on his face.

_Stiles is just getting fat._

~

(Three months)

 

Derek always rubs his belly. Whether they’re watching a movie, or in the shower, or Derek is reading a book, his hand always gravitates to Stiles’ stomach.

He wants to tell Derek that there’s nothing in there, it’s not possible. Stiles took biology, he _knows_ that boys and girls have different reproductive bits. He wants to tell Derek to not get his hopes up and that Stiles is just eating too much.

Derek never says anything and neither does Stiles.

~

(Four months)

 

He looks at himself in the mirror. Stares long and hard.

He turns side ways and pokes his stomach. It’s not soft with fat like he was really hoping it would be. It’s hard and just getting more noticeable as the weeks go by. If he wears a shirt he can pretend it’s not there, but standing shirtless in the bathroom mirror is making it a little more real.

Derek walks by, asking where his glasses are, when he stops in the bathroom doorway. He looks at Stiles, the mirror, then Stiles’ belly.

He smiles as he walks in, going up behind Stiles and wrapping his arms around him, hands on Stiles’ bulge, warm and protective. He looks at it through the mirror, and Stiles feels like crying. He is emotionally pent up. He’s forgetting what Scott’s voice sounds like, forgetting that the police have probably stopped searching for him by now. He looks down at Derek’s hands on his stomach and rests his own on top of them.

~

(Five months)

 

“Fuck, Derek, stop elbowing me.”

He was having such a good sleep, too.

Derek groans sleepily and mumbles, “What? I’m not.”

He feels it again. It’s like a punch in the gut, except internal.

“Derek.” He sits up and he may be freaking out a bit. It’s _moving inside of him._ “Derek, wake the fuck up, the— the, um. It’s kicking, Derek. It’s fucking  pulverizing my insides.” And that may have been a bit of an exaggeration but who cares, he’s _freaking out._

Derek’s eyes go wide and he sits up, hand immediately pressing lightly into Stiles swollen belly. It kicks again, _fuck._

Derek huffs out a surprised laugh. “Wow. It really is. Our baby is kicking, Stiles. That’s incredible.” He’s glowing like a proud parent and Stiles is so overwhelmed he feels like he’s going to burst into tears. Sure he can sort of pretend nothing is in there usually, but now it’s fucking moving. Something is alive inside of Stiles and it was created by him. And a werewolf that abducted him.

He doesn’t realize he’s started to cry until he feels Derek’s thumb wipe away a hot tear. “I know, baby. I can’t believe it either.”

The sun comes up three hours later and Stiles is still awake.

~

(Six months)

 

He feels stupid, but he talks to the baby sometimes. Late at night when Derek is sound asleep and the baby’s kicking inside him.

“Are you a future soccer player? Hm? Next David Beckham? Oh wait, no, you might be a girl. I don’t know the names of any girl soccer players, I’m sorry. You kick like mad in there though, baby. Give me a break, yeah? I’m pretty sure my stomach is bruised on the inside, and I didn’t even think that was possible. But I guess I can’t get too mad at you. You can’t help it, can you?”

He doesn’t see Derek smiling next to him.

~

(Seven months)

 

Stiles starts thinking about names. Gender. Whether the baby will like sports or not. It’s like all these thoughts come pummeling in his brain and he has no control over it. He’s doing a completely shitty job anyway. He can’t think of a single name that fits. He kind of wishes he knew the gender, but he’ll find out soon enough.

“You think of any names?” He blurts out one night when Derek is shaving his face.

Derek looks at him and blinks. “I… I’m not really sure on that yet. I’m sure it’ll come to me. What about you?”

Stiles groans. “Nada. Like absolutely nothing. You’d think I could come up with something at least decent to name our baby but I’m seriously blanking,” he huffs.

Derek looks at him more intensely now, and _okay._ His eyes light up and he leans his forehead on Stiles’. _“Our baby.”_

Stiles chokes on his saliva a little. “I— Oh. Yeah I did say that, huh?”

“I love you and this baby so much, Stiles. So much.”

Stiles rests one hand on his belly and another on Derek’s forearm. He doesn’t say anything.

~

(Eight months)

 

“God I’m fucking _fat.”_

He can’t stop looking at himself in the mirror. He feels sluggish and gross and fat.

“No you’re not, Stiles, you’re pregnant.”

“But I’m so _big,_ ” he pouts. He can’t help it. It’s like there’s a balloon about to pop inside of him.

“Right. And you still look beautiful.” Derek rests his hands on Stiles’ shoulders and gently rubs up and down his arms, and _that_ feels nice.

“I don’t look beautiful at all. It doesn’t matter how many times you say it.” He wants to put his clothes back on, and he’s grateful that Derek bought the maternity style dresses.

“And just look at me. I’ve been growing fucking tits. Like, I have _moobs._ ”

“I’ve noticed.”

“They’re just getting bigger. And let me be the one to tell you that growing tits _hurts.”_

Derek laughs behind him and kisses his ear. “Our baby needs to get nutrients somehow, you know.”

_Wait._

“Hold up, you mean like _breast feeding?”_

“Mhm,” Derek mumbles into his neck, and Stiles can feel him smiling.

“Fuck.

“You’re going to be such a good mommy. You’ll be so good with our baby, feeding them, playing with them, bathing them.”

“Oh, what, and you’ll just sit around watching football like a lazy dad, hm?” Stiles is picturing it in his head. _Has_ been picturing it in his head for a while.

Derek is still smiling into his neck. He kisses it. “Of course not, baby. I’m just saying that you’ll make an amazing housewife and mommy.”

Well, the parents of the kids Stiles usual babysat for always came back to him, so, he’s pretty good with kids if he does say so himself.

“How about you put on that pretty pink lip gloss I got you and that new mascara. The lady at Sephora said it was suppose to accentuate your eye color.”

He doesn’t argue anymore. He just sighs and tries to hide a smile. Warmth bubbling in his swollen tummy that feels a bit like happiness.

~

(Nine months)

 

“Derek.”

“Mhm.”

“How is the baby going to get out of me. I don’t have a vagina or birth canal.”

Stiles is pretending to watch basketball and instead running a palm across the span of his belly while Derek is reading next to him. Derek grabs Stiles’ hand and intertwines their fingers, lifting it up to kiss his knuckles. “Don’t worry, sweetie, I have a friend that will help us.”

“Um. A friend. _Okay._ ” Stiles hasn’t had any human contact other than Derek for the past nine months, and he’s not even sure Derek really counts as human. The thought of talking to anyone besides Derek makes him feel a little queasy. He rarely even thinks of talking to his dad anymore. It got easier to stop thinking about him when he forgot what his voice sounded like.

Derek smiles at him. “He’s a doctor, honey. He’s dealt with… this kind of pregnancy before. Don’t worry, I would never put you in a situation that could harm you.”

“Okay… Are you sure this is going to be safe?” He can’t imagine this ending up well. He hadn’t even _thought_ about it. Fuck.

Derek kisses his temple, then his huge ass belly and then his lips. “I’m positive,” he murmurs against Stiles’ lips.

~

He wakes up to his insides being mauled by a viscous animal. Okay, maybe not, but _still._ And something wet is soaking into his shorts. _Peachy._

“ _Fuck, Derek._ There’s something wrong, I— _Fuck._ ” He repeatedly punches Derek in the chest to get him up but he doesn’t even realize he’s already awake and leaning over Stiles.

“Stiles, what’s going on?”

“I don’t _know,_ Derek. But I think either the baby is ripping apart my stomach lining and I pissed myself or this baby _really_ wants to get out and my water broke. The water that I didn’t even know _could break, what in the—_ ”

“Shh, it’s okay, Stiles. You’re in labor and we’re going to get our baby out of there, okay? Let me call Deaton and—”

“Don’t you dare fucking leave, Derek,” he grits through his clenched teeth as Derek gets out of bed.

Derek is already back by Stiles’ side with his cell phone pressed against his ear within seconds. “Deaton. Deaton, Stiles is in labor, come as quickly as you can.” He hangs up. “He’ll be here in thirty minutes.”

“ _Thirty minutes._ I don’t know if I can last, Derek.”

Derek laughs and brushes Stiles matted hair out of his face. His hair is down to his shoulders. “It’ll be fine, baby. He’ll be here before you know it and we’ll finally have our baby in our arms.” Derek runs his knuckles up and down Stiles arm and it makes Stiles feel better. He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine, he’ll be—

Something constricts inside of Stiles, like his muscles were sent through a grinder and _wow that feels awful._

This Deaton guy finally gets to the house and Stiles is rolling side to side on the bed.

Deaton looks nice enough. He comes in the room with warm eyes and a smile like Derek didn’t wake him up at four in the morning to help Stiles give birth. “Hello, you must be Stiles. I’m Doctor Deaton, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah Doc that’s great but it feels like a plunger is sucking in my muscles and then spitting them out so if we could get this started that would be awesome.”

“ _Stiles,_ ” Derek hushes him, but Deaton laughs.

“Understandable. Alright let me set my things up. Will you be comfortable on the bed or should we move to somewhere else, like the floor?”

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut. “Bed’s good. Don’t really want to move.”

Deaton nods and takes out his things and wait. _Wait._

“Wait, Doc, the baby’s not… The baby isn’t coming out of my…”

Deaton smiles at him. “No, the anal passage isn’t nearly big enough to fit a baby through. That’s. That’s impossible, Stiles.”

 _So was male pregnancy but I was proven wrong with that one,_ he thinks. But instead he says, “Oh. Good.” Because that would hurt like a motherfucker.

“I’ll be performing a Cesarean section on you. I’m going to have to inject you with an anesthetic that will prevent you from feeling any pain, I hope that’s alright with you and Derek.”

Stiles looks up at Derek as if it’s his decision, which, no, it’s not. “Yeah, that’s fine, Doc. Let’s just get this baby out of me.”

Deaton chuckles— _He’s a chuckler—_ and pulls out a huge ass syringe. He quickly situates Stiles’ arm and _ow_ that kind of hurt. But he’s already feeling drowsy, and the last thing he feels is Derek running his knuckles along his cheek.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry this chapter took longer than the others, but i hope you like it. Thank you everyone who decided to read my story. I definitely might have made this a two-parter so there will be a fifth chapter that i hope to get out shortly. I just really wanted to get this chapter out to you now :) it's much longer than the other chapters so at least there's that!

Stiles wakes up to… To something.

When he opens his eyes, his vision is blurry, but the blur subsides to take in one thing.

Derek. Derek crying. ( _Wow._ ) Holding a bundle of blankets and—

“Derek,” he tries, and he could hardly hear himself, but it’s enough for Derek to look up from the bundle and stare at Stiles with so much… Everything. He looks at Stiles with pride, happiness, fondness, _love._ God, he always looks at Stiles with so much love that he aches with it.

“Hey, honey,” Derek says softly, voice cracking and Stiles didn’t even know his voice could _do_ that. “Want to see our little boy?”  

 _Little boy. Boy._ His baby boy. Their baby boy.

Stiles makes some weird noise in the back of his throat, probably choking down the sob that almost escapes.

Stiles holds his arms out without his brain thinking about it, and Derek hands him the bundle of blankets so very carefully, and when Stiles securely takes hold of the bundle— _his boy_ —it doesn’t even feel like he’s using his own arms. It feels like someone else’s arms and hands, and although it’s probably from the anesthetic, he also thinks it’s just from the overwhelming amount of power and pride he’s feeling, holding this baby.

He looks at the baby wrapped in white blankets—and well _that’s_ not very traditional— and almost loses his breath. Their baby is sleeping, peaceful, round-faced and flushed pink. He has brown hair, and a lot of it. Stiles remembers his mom telling him he had a lot of hair when he was a baby, too. He has a soft little nose and soft little cheeks.

“Derek,” he says finally, still looking at his son. “Derek, he’s so beautiful.” It’s all he can think to say.

Derek says nothing at first, just puts a warm, comforting hand on Stiles’ shoulder, then says, “He is.”

As if the baby knows he’s being talked about, he opens his eyes, slowly, experimental. And Stiles’ eyes meet the most beautiful hazel eyes he’s ever seen. There’s speckles of green splattered around, and Stiles and Derek _made_ this.

“Hey, little guy.” A tear falls on the blanket. _Damn it_ he was trying so hard not to cry. “Hey, guess what? You are the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. And that’s not me being conceded, I mean I know my genes are in you, but it was this guy, too, I guess.” He nods over to Derek. “But we’ll just say you got your good looks from me.”

And his son is looking at him so intently, scanning every detail of his face it seems like. And Stiles has never felt anything like how he’s feeling right now. He’s getting rushes of thoughts of _this is how your life is suppose to be. This was meant to be. Derek was meant to find you. You love this baby, you love Derek, you love him, you love him._

His brain is like a motor, exuding more out of him then he wants to think about.

Right now all he wants to think about is his baby boy. With his soft little lips and hands and—

_Fuck._

_“Fu—_ dge. Fudge,” he corrects himself even though the baby can’t understand him. “Derek. _Derek, a name. His name.”_

When Stiles shoots a look at Derek, his smiles has fallen and he looks caught off guard. “ _Oh.”_

“Yeah, _oh._ Our baby is nameless!”

Derek goes back to relaxing and smiling next to Stiles. “Relax, sweetie. I’m sure the baby isn’t offended.” And Stiles’ smile is back. “Have you finalized any choices for boy names?”

And he did. He thought about it non-stop. In the shower, eating a meal, while Derek brushed his hair… He thought about it a helluva lot. He thought about names of important people in his life, but his mind went blank. His brain jumped to the name Scott but that didn’t really feel right. He wanted something that was normal, not something obscure like Coconut or some shit. And there was always one name that kind of just stood out. No significance of any kind.

“Noah. How about Noah?”

He looks at Derek, waiting to see the grimace of rejection, but he’s looking at Stiles like he just read him the formula to cure cancer. His eyes drift to the baby, then back to Stiles. “I love it. It sounds perfect.”

Stiles squints his eyes. “I feel like you’re just saying that.”

Derek’s smile widens and he grabs the sides of Stiles’ face gently so he looks at Derek head on. “No, Stiles. I’m not just saying that. I think the name fits him perfectly.”

Stiles deflates like a balloon. “Oh. Well, good.” He looks down at the baby, who is now back to sleeping. “Little baby Noah,” he whispers as he drags a finger down Noah’s smooth cheek.

“How are you feeling?” Derek asks after a few minutes of Stiles admiring his son.

“Um. Huh?”

“I asked, how are you feeling? Your stomach…”

And oh. Right. Now that he thinks about it there’s been a bit of a dull ache in his abdomen that’s been pushed to the side in favor of looking at Noah.

He looks down at his stomach, once so round and full of _this, right in his arms,_ that it looks a bit funny so flat. And the spot where the incision was made is covered with a giant bandage.

He’s sure the stitches will look nasty as fuck and he’s not really looking forward to taking those out. But, his Noah came out of there. _God._ At least the doc patched him up and—

“Hey, where’s Deaton?”

“He went to the living room to give us some privacy. He’ll be back shortly to check on Noah’s vitals and see if everything is alright.”

Hearing Derek say his son’s name sounds even more incredible than he ever thought. It just sounds so… Right.

 

An hour later Deaton comes in and checks how Noah is doing. Derek has to practically pry Noah from Stiles’ arms so that the doc can check him out. He doesn’t want to let go of his baby. It already feels empty without the tiny warm body pressed against him.

“Can you hurry up and give me my baby back please?”

“Stiles,” Derek chastises.

Deaton chuckles. “Yes, I’m just finishing up now. Everything seems to be absolutely fine.”

Relief washes over Stiles’ face and when he looks at Derek, he can see the same relief on his features. “Good,” he mumbles.

Deaton finally hands over his baby and Stiles takes him possessively, but softly. His son doesn’t need to be thinking he’s some control freak.

Deaton clears his throat before speaking. “Now Stiles, within the next half hour you will need to begin Noah’s breastfeeding. It’s simple and should take some relief off of your… chest. I don’t think you need me any longer,  so I’ll be on my way. Are there any questions?”

Derek looks at Stiles, who is occupied playing with Noah’s fingers, and then returns his gaze to Deaton. “No, I think we’ll be fine. Thank you. For everything, Deaton.”

Deaton nods. “It was no trouble. I wish you and Stiles luck with your baby. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to call.” He looks down at Stiles and his smile is a little less bright. “And Derek, one last thing.” He walks up to Derek and leans in closely to his ear. “You can’t keep him in this house forever, Derek. Stiles will shut down mentally without even realizing it. Take him out, go to the market, to dinner, anything. Let him talk to his father. He needs that kind of contact, Derek. Even for a little while.” Derek grimaces. “He won’t leave you, if that’s what you think. He’s too far bonded with you to ever think of leaving you. Just do it for him. For his well-being.”

Deaton leans away from Derek’s ear and they both glance at Stiles who is talking to Noah in a hushed tone. Derek smiles. “I’ll work it out,” is what he says, and Deaton nods and pats him on the shoulder not looking completely satisfied.

Deaton heads to the bedroom door and stops at the doorway to face Stiles. “Take care, Stiles. Make sure to replace the dressing on your incision regularly for the next week. After five days, remove the dressing so the incision is exposed to air and do it again two days later. I trust that you will be careful and take pain relievers  for however long you feel is necessary.”

Stiles listened to about half of that. He waves the doctor off and then looks back down at Noah.

And then Noah’s face scrunches up and he starts crying. _What._

Stiles totally doesn’t freak out.

“ _Derek!_ Why is Noah crying? What’s wrong with him? Is he sick already? Oh god what if he _hates me and can’t stand me holding him_ Jesus, Derek I’m failing already!”

Derek shushes him, and Stiles holds in his next comment. “Stiles, baby. Shh, relax. He’s probably just hungry. Everything is fine.”

Stiles takes a few deep breaths. “Oh. That… That sounds reasonable. How should we…?”

“Here,” Derek adjusts Noah in Stiles’ arms so he’s facing more towards his chest and directs his face toward Stiles’ nipple and— _oh okay, the baby is latching on for dear life._

Stiles gasps at the sudden feeling of it. He’s feeding his son. From his _moobs._ No, wait, Derek told him not to call them that. He’s feeding his son from his _breasts._ That he definitely didn’t have nine months ago.

And it feels… It feels like Noah is metaphorically sucking Stiles’ _everything_ into his system. His soul, his life, his heart. Like he has Stiles at the palm of his tiny hands without him even knowing. It feels so special, like Stiles is his everything at that moment. Like Noah is sharing his own soul, life, and heart with Stiles at that same moment.

And it’s incredible.

“How does it feel?” Derek asks quietly in his ear, and he realizes that Derek probably asked him already but he wasn’t listening.

“It feels… Indescribable,” is what he can think of to say.

“Look how much he loves his mommy’s milk, baby. He already loves his beautiful mommy so much.” Derek kisses his shoulder, then his temple, and then caresses their Noah’s soft head without disrupting him.

“Derek,” Stiles breathes out. “Derek, I love you. I love you and I love Noah, and I hope you know that.”

And if Stiles concentrates hard enough he can feel Derek’s smile against the crown of his head. “I love you, too, baby. So much. And our Noah. But you already know that.”

And he does. He does know that.

And _this._ This is definitely how is life is suppose to be.

~

Noah is crying in his high chair while Stiles is making him lunch. It’s nothing he would eat; smashed squash and potatoes and carrots and all the goods. It looks disgusting, but Noah loves it.

But he keeps _crying._

Stiles sighs as he puts the mash in a bowl and digs for a baby spoon. “Noah, please. I mean, why on earth would you be crying on your nine month birthday? If I was you, I’d be thrilled. I even put extra carrots in your lunch, mmm.” As he walks up to the baby, Noah’s cries quiet down substantially, eyes big and wide as Stiles holds a spoonful of food in the air. “Ooooh, look what I have, your favorite mix!” He does the whole _here comes the train!_ spiel as he feeds Noah.

The baby smiles whenever Stiles makes a fool out of himself, which is at every single mealtime. He wishes Derek was home, because he likes Derek to be there every time their son does anything remotely cute. Which is, like, all the time. But Derek is at the market picking up diapers and food and more diapers while Stiles feeds the baby. Derek always does the shopping for him and it takes a load off of Stiles’ hands. He has mommy things to do, like feed Noah, wash the dishes, do the laundry, clean the house. It killed him when he was recovering from his C-section because he couldn’t get out of bed at all for weeks, let alone help Derek as much as he wanted to. It was torture, but as soon as Stiles wasn’t achey and back on his feet, he took on the role of housewife easily. It’s not like he expected anything less.

Taking care of Noah leaves time for sex close to none. His begging is embarrassing and Derek always shuts him down. Derek gets close to cracking sometimes, but there’s always something to worry about. Whether Noah will start crying out of nowhere, or if he needs a diaper change, or if he needs his mommy’s milk.

Noah comes before anything in their household, without a doubt. But Stiles has _needs._

~

Stiles and Derek are watching some sitcom a week later and Noah keeps touching Stiles’ cheek. Stiles smiles down at his baby boy and quickly takes Noah’s hand into his mouth gently, pretending to swallow it, noises and all and Noah must find it the most hilarious thing he’s ever seen because he giggles like mad, and Stiles can’t help but laugh too as he takes the tiny hand out of his mouth, because he loves being the one to make his boy laugh. It starts up a warmth inside him that never really goes away. “Heyyy, don’t you laugh at me, mister, I’m very intimidating. I could have eaten your whole hand.” He smiles down at him and kisses his balled up hand.

He knows Derek is looking at him, smiling at him. He never _really_ stops. Especially when Stiles is entertaining the baby. Derek runs a finger down Noah’s cheek and Noah turns toward it. “Your mommy is so silly, isn’t she, Noah?”

Stiles looks at Derek, smile still sitting on his face, and Derek leans over and kisses him, long and sweet and loving.

When they separate, Noah’s holding Stiles’ index finger hostage and Derek’s face goes kind of weird. Kind of blank. And Stiles is immediately worried. “Derek? What’s wrong?”

“How about…” he starts. “How about you and Noah come grocery shopping with me today?”

And— _Okay?_

Stiles blinks at him for a moment. “You… Want me to go to the market with you?”

Derek’s smile is back again, _thank God,_ Stiles thinks. “Well, that _is_ where someone would find most groceries.”

“Shut up,” Stiles says with a grin and _wow, grocery shopping._ “I… Do we even have a baby carrier?” Is the first thing he can think of to say.

Derek snorts out a laugh, like he can’t believe that’s all Stiles has to say. “Yeah, I bought one a while back. So… What do you say?”

Stiles looks down at Noah, who’s taken pity on Stiles’ finger and let go, drifting off to sleep in his arms. “Well, yeah, sure. I didn’t think you needed my help with the grocery shopping, but I guess it’s about time we get Noah to try some new foods out.” He pauses, thinking over what else he might need to get Noah as he continues to develop, but he comes up blank. “Can we leave in about an hour? I need to get dressed and put the clothes in the dryer first.”

Derek kisses him. On his cheek, forehead, ear, chin, mouth. He runs his fingers through Stiles’ hair once before standing up. “While you’re doing that I’ll do the dishes for you then.”

Stiles snorts. “Please, babe, as if I didn’t do the dishes this morning. Who do you think I am?”

Derek laughs and holds his hands up in surrender. “You’re right, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. My perfect wife, always getting the job done before I can even lift a finger.”

Stiles smiles up at him, feeling a bit smug. “That’s right. Now please take Noah to his crib while I go get ready.”

 

He’s not freaking out. Definitely not.

Except he is. Damn it.

How can he not, he’s _leaving the house._ He’s going to be around _actual people_ that aren’t Derek and Noah. What if someone tries talking to him? Saying hi? He used to be so good at keeping a conversation going, making a stranger laugh, but it’s like those traits have been erased from him. It’s not like he needs to talk to people anyway. He has Derek, and that’s all he needs really.

After his shower he wraps his body and hair in towels and looks down at his makeup collection. He doesn’t want to put on something too heavy. He’s going to a market, not a club. He’ll go light. Mascara, lip gloss, some blush, maybe. It’s not like he can go out in public without any at all. He’d look like a wreck.

Once he’s finished with that he looks through his closet and _what the heck is he suppose to wear to the market?_

He picks out the new off-white dress Derek just bought him and figures it’s casual enough. He brushes his hair and finally looks in the mirror.

He looks good. Thinks he looks pretty.

When he comes out of the bathroom, Derek is just walking in the bedroom. He looks at Stiles, head to toe, and Stiles is so overwhelmed with the look he’s giving him.

“You look beautiful,” he says.

Stiles cheeks go pink. He’ll pretend it’s the blush. “I didn’t really do anything special, but thanks.”

Derek looks at him for another good, long moment before clearing his throat. “Well I’m ready when you are.”

As if on queue, Noah’s cries start up. He’s awake from his nap and probably needs a diaper change.

Stiles starts toward the door, but Derek stops him. “Nope, I’ve got him. Finish up and come downstairs when you’re ready.”

Stiles really does not think he’s ready.

On the drive there, Stiles looks down at his hands most of the way as he rubs his thighs to straighten out his dress. He’s nervous, he can’t help it.

When he looks up, his eyes go wide as he looks at the passing trees and houses around him. _This_ is where they are. From everything Stiles can remember, it looks a lot like Beacon Hills, but Stiles knows that it’s definitely not Beacon Hills. Nothing they’re passing really looks familiar.

He doesn’t bother asking where they are.

They pull into a parking lot of some Albertson’s. There’s tons of cars and people steering carts and his heart speeds up.

Derek here’s the rise in pulse, _of course he does_ , and looks at Stiles with furrowed eyebrows. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Stiles mumbles.

“You nervous?” Derek asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes out.

Derek sets a firm and protective hand on Stiles knee. “Everything will be fine, baby. I know it’s been awhile since you’ve been around strangers but don’t worry about it. You have me and Noah here with you.”

Stiles looks in the rearview mirror at his gurgling baby boy and sighs. “Yeah. Yeah I can do this. Let’s go shopping.”

 

It’s just… There’s so many people in Albertson’s. And every time someone looks at him or Derek or Noah, he feels a spike in blood pressure.

“What a beautiful boy you have,” some old lady standing next to them says as they scour the freezer isle. _God damn it._

Stiles and Derek turn to her but Stiles doesn’t look anywhere near her eyes. “Um. I- um.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” Derek chimes in next to him, _bless him_ , and pulls Stiles in by the waist, rubbing his hipbone.

“Is he yours?” she says next and quickly takes in Stiles’ outfit and _Christ he’s going to faint._

“Sure is,” Derek says. Looking at Stiles, probably checking if his face hasn’t turned blue from lack of oxygen.

“Well he’s a handsome little guy,” she says with a warm smile, and then she walks off with her cart, not without giving Stiles another once over.

Stiles releases a huge breath and wraps his arms around Derek. “Derek. I couldn’t even say _thank you,”_ he mutters into Derek’s shirt.

Derek rubs Stiles’ shoulder. “It’s alright, it’ll get better. It just takes some time.”

They leave soon after and Stiles is grateful he doesn’t have to be around all those people any longer.

~

The day Noah says his first word is when Derek decides to toss Stiles through a hurdle.

Derek is rolling a rubber ball back and forth with Noah while Stiles is cleaning the kitchen when they hear it.

It’s small, but it’s there. And Stiles thinks his heart stops beating.

He says it. He says “mama” right there on the carpet, and Derek’s eyes go wider than Stiles has ever seen. He looks up at Stiles and grins. “Stiles. Did you hear that? Did you hear what he said? He said mama! His first word!”

Stiles practically tumbles into the living room and drops to the floor next to Derek. “ _Noah._ Baby, say it again, please. Mommy wants to hear you say it again.”

And it takes a minute, but he does. Says “mama” right in front of him, watches his little mouth form the word, and Stiles actually sheds a tear.

“Derek. His first _word._ I’m so proud.” Another tear. Fuck.

Derek smirks. “You’re just emotional because he said ‘mama’ instead of ‘dada’ first.”

Stiles laughs because, well. “I mean, maybe a little. He must have missed me. Aw, little Noah. We’ll get daddy’s bottom right out of here if you want and you can spend all your time with your mommy, hm?” He winks at Derek before picking up his baby and cuddling him close. “So proud of my little boy, saying his very first word. Mommy’s so proud."

He could never really consider himself as Noah’s dad. That’s never how it had been planted in his mind. It’s always been “his mommy”, “my wife”, “amazing mother”. He never has been or never will be a dad like Derek. That’s not really how it works. That’s not his role. Derek is Noah’s daddy and Stiles is Noah’s mommy, and that’s… He assumes that’s how it was always meant to be.

~

The rest of the day, Stiles notices that Derek is acting… a little strange.

He doesn’t say anything, just pays close attention. He’s looking at Stiles like he’s worried about something, and he thinks Stiles doesn’t notice.

Noah is put to bed and Stiles and Derek are curled up on the couch watching some drama show. About doctors, maybe, when Derek clears his throat.

Stiles looks up from his spot on Derek’s shoulder and smirks. _Here it comes._ “Yes?”

“Um. I wanted to… Ask you something.” Derek runs a hand through his thick hair and looks blankly at the TV.

“What is it?”

He hesitates. “Do you…”

 _Want to marry me?_ Stiles brain fills in for a split second.

“I was thinking that uh…” Another pause. “You could call your dad.”

Stiles actually feels his face drain of color.

“My… Dad? Why would you think I should call my dad?”

“Because… I think that you need that kind of contact in your life. Trust me, I love having you to myself more than anything, but I get worried about you, and… And I think this will be good for you. You know, call and tell him you’re okay. See how he’s been doing. You can talk to him about whatever. As long as he doesn’t come over to arrest me. I don’t think that would end very well,” he finishes with a small smirk.

The words bury deep in his mind. _His dad._ He hasn’t talked to or really thought about his dad in months. And now Derek is just _handing this_ to him.

“Are… Are you serious?” He says quietly.

“Yeah,” Derek breathes out.

Stiles kisses him.

“That’s awesome of you but I… I don’t know what I would say to him. What _do_ I say?” His mind is reeling with how this conversation could go. _“Hey dad, I’m alive and everything. And I have a son with the man who took me from my room however long ago. It’s alright though because I’m madly in love with him and I would appreciate it if you don’t come and find me. So how’s baseball season looking?”_ Nah. Nope. The thought of hearing his dad’s voice again terrifies him.

~

The next morning Stiles wakes up to the smell of bacon and a happy looking Noah in his high chair, eating cheerios.

“Well this is a nice surprise,” Stiles says, kissing his baby boy on the head and his other boy on the lips.

“Just thought my girl deserved a nice breakfast for all her hard work.” Derek pulls him in, grabs his ass in both hands, and kisses his neck.

“Well aren’t you charming this morning,” Stiles smirks and Derek kisses his neck again. And again, and again, and then licks a long stripe up— Damn it. “ _Not in front of the baby, Derek,_ ” he hisses, pushing Derek away with no actual heat.

Derek is back to facing the stove again, but Stiles can tell he’s smiling.

 

“So, I think I’m ready to call my dad today,” Stiles says after breakfast.

Derek looks up at him. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes out.

“You nervous?”

“Yeah.”

Derek leans forward and runs a palm up and down Stiles thigh and rests their foreheads together. “It will be just fine, I promise. I’ll even be right next to you if you want.”

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes out again and nuzzles his nose against Derek’s.

 

The phone is getting slippery in his clammy hand and his thumb is hovering over the call button. He made sure to make the number he’s calling from blocked so his dad can’t track him down. Like, he’s not stupid.

Derek grabs his hand and kisses his knuckles while Noah plays with his hair and that’s really all he needs to finally press call.

It rings. And rings. And rings. Stiles heart speeds up at the thought of his dad actually not picking up the phone, when the ringing stops and he hears, _“Sheriff Stilinski speaking.”_

Stiles sighs. “Dad,” he chokes out. “Hey dad, it’s me.”

There’s a pause, and then, “ _S-Stiles? Is that really you?”_ And he sounds so disbelieving, yet so hopeful that Stiles’ heart kind of breaks in half.

“Yeah, dad. I—Um. I know it’s been awhile.” And he immediately wants to do a major facepalm because _that’s_ the best he can think of? _Of course_ it’s been awhile. Fuck.

The sheriff breathes out a laugh, but it doesn’t really sound all that amused. _“Yeah, Stiles. More like it’s been twenty-two months and two weeks since I’ve last seen you.”_

Has it really been _that_ long?

 _“Stiles, where are you? Where the hell have you been? I thought—”_ and here come the choked up sobs. _“I thought you were dead, Stiles. I thought I lost you forever.”_

“Dad.”

 _“It’s been_ terrible, _Stiles. I think I got my first decent night’s sleep maybe a month ago. They’ve been trying to shut down the case, but I haven’t stopped, Stiles. I haven’t given up. God, we’ve searched_ everywhere _for you.”_

“Dad, I’m okay,” he says quietly, trying to keep his voice even. “I’m not even that far away from Beacon Hills, if you can believe that. See, we haven’t been that far apart.”

_“Well, where the hell are you?”_

And he doesn’t really want to answer that. So he doesn’t. “Don’t know the name, sorry.”

_“Stiles—”_

“I really just called to tell you that I’m fine. I’m happy, dad. And you can stop looking for me. Actually, you really should stop looking for me. I don’t really need to be found. I’m not lost or anything.”

There’s a pause. _“Stiles, what are you talking about? Is the kidnapper there?”_

Stiles looks up at Derek. “Well, yeah. But I don’t see what that has to do with—”

_“Stiles. You can make it out of there. You can. I’ll come find you, alright?”_

“Dad. You’re kind of pissing me off. I told you I don’t really need you to come find me. I’m happy where I am. Maybe I can…” He stops before he gets too far.

He looks at Derek and before he can even say anything, Derek seems to know what he wants to say as he nods at him.

_“Stiles, what? Maybe you can what?”_

Stiles sighs, picking up Noah’s tiny fist and spreading his fingers out to distract himself. “Maybe we can, like, come by the house, you know. Show you that I’m fine. Derek and I will pick up some steaks and mashed potatoes and we’ll have dinner, okay?”

_“Derek?” Is all the sheriff says back._

“Uh. Yeah. Derek. Anyway, does that sound good? Otherwise I’ll just stay here at home and we’ll finish up the conversation with some good old college football talk, eh?”

 _“Of course I want you to come over, Stiles. There’s nothing I want more than to have my boy back,”_ and the tears are welling in his dad’s throat again. _“God, Stiles. You have no idea how much I miss you. I miss you so much. I’ve been going nuts thinking about whether you were alive or dead.”_

“I’m sorry, dad.” He’s not really sure what he’s specifically saying sorry for. But it’s a lot of things.

Stiles can hear the smile in his voice. _“You have no reason to apologize, son. You did nothing wrong.”_

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, and a trying-to-be-subtle sniff. _“So when do I get to see you, huh?”_

He looks over to Derek, who just shrugs in response. “Um. I’ll call you, okay? It won’t be too long.”

His dad lets out a shaky breath that he was probably holding the entire phone call. _“Just… Promise me that you’re not hurt, Stiles. You’re not, are you?”_

If hurt doesn’t mean sore from being fucked over the couch while Noah slept last night, then no, he wouldn’t say he’s hurt.

“No, dad. I told you, I’m right as rain. Cool as a cucumber, and all those other similes that I can’t think of and that you’re not helping me out on.”

His dad sighs. _“Happy as a clam?”_

Stiles laughs and Derek kisses his temple. “Yeah. That one’s perfect, dad.”

 _“I’ll see you soon, right, son? You’re not kidding around?”_ And he just sounds so desperate for Stiles to say—

“Yes, dad. I promise you I’ll see you soon.” 

_“Good. You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice, Stiles. I love you so, so much.”_

“I— Yeah. You too, dad,” he gets out. “You too.” He pauses. “And dad,” he starts.

_“What is it?”_

He closes his eyes and rests his head on the back of the couch. “If you even consider having cops hidden around the place or plan on calling the cops in anyway when we get there, you can plan on me never coming back to see you again. And that’s not Derek’s promise, it’s mine.”

_“I— Stiles—”_

“Dad. Don’t do it.”

His dad doesn’t speak up for another minute, but when he does, his voice is quiet. _“I won’t, Stiles. I promise.”_

Stiles opens his eyes and looks down at Noah, who’s looking at Derek. “I hope you keep that promise. Bye, Dad. We’ll see you soon.”

He ends the call, tosses the phone on the floor and rubs a hand over his face.

Derek nestles Stiles into his side and rubs his back. “How are you feeling?”

Stiles thinks it over. “I think I’m good. It was nice hearing my dad’s voice.”

Derek kisses his head. “Good. I’m glad. Your dad cares about you a lot.”

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs. “Just hope he keeps his word,” he mumbles.

“I’m sure everything will be fine. The important thing is, is that you can see your dad. And I bet you that Scott will be there, too.”

 _Scott._ Fuck. He gets to see _Scott._ He remembers when Scott went on vacation to Big Bear for a week and Stiles was absolutely distraught that he couldn’t see his best friend for seven days. He’s been with Derek for months and dealt with being away from Scott fine. What does that say about him? Jesus.

“Yeah. Um, let’s go to bed. I’m kind of emotionally drained from that conversation and could really use some sleep.”

Derek smiles at him and they carefully take a sleeping Noah up to his crib, then migrate to their own room.

When they get in bed, Stiles shoves himself right into Derek’s side, trying to get as close as possible. Derek pulls him in and kisses his forehead, then lifts Stiles’ chin to capture his lips with his own. “I love you so much, Stiles,” he mumbles into Stiles’ lips.

Stiles pulls back. “I love you, too.”

He’s asleep within minutes, dreams of trying to remember what shade of blue his dad’s eyes are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how do you think this will end? i'd love to know


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm an awful person. I may have lied unintentionally twice. The first lie is that I said I was going to update like over a week ago, and then the second lie is that this was going to be the last chapter. Which it's not. Sorry? :( I had lots of work for my last week of school before break, and then my computer wasn't working. BUT, I really wanted to put up what I have so far so you at least have something, and since I'm on break now I will definitely have the last chapter or two up sooner than this one. I have lots of stuff to put into the ending-ish. Enjoy this bit for now, and thank you for being patient :)))

Stiles thinks about his dad for approximately two days.

Noah says “dada” for the first time when Derek is feeding him breakfast and Stiles forgets all about visiting Beacon Hills.

~

“We should go out. On a date.”

Stiles pauses midway to feeding Noah a spoonful of peaches—and Noah is not very happy about the interruption— and looks at Derek. “A… date?”

“Yeah.”

Stiles feels giddy about the idea, but he doesn’t let himself get too excited. “Um. Yeah, and what about Noah? We would need to bring him.”

“That’s true,” he says slowly, like he’s thinking it over, but Stiles knows Derek. He knows that Derek has thought about this all forward, backwards, and sideways. “So, I guess we’ll just have to go somewhere where we can bring him with us. Does that sound alright?”

Stiles snorts. As if he would want to spend time away from his baby. “Of course, I can’t think of anything better.” He smiles at Derek, squeezes his hand, and returns to feeding Noah. “So what did you have in mind?”

“Well,” Derek drags out, tracing his thumb along Stiles’ smooth knuckles. “I was thinking the aquarium…” There’s a pause and Stiles’ eyes go wide. “ _Of the Pacific._ ”

And Stiles feels like a kid that just got told he’s going to Disneyland. 

“Awesome! Man, Derek, I’ve been wanting to go since I learned about Beluga whales in first grade. And Noah’s gonna love it!” He’s ecstatic. It’s not like he doesn’t know that aquariums are just fish prisons to scam people out of money, but he can’t help but be excited. His dad always said that he was going to take him, but then his mom died and the idea never got brought up again.

Derek grins at him. “I thought you would enjoy it. I was thinking we could go tomorrow. Get there early and then finish around dinner, because I have something special planned for you.”

Stiles heart is fluttering in his chest and _wow he’s lame._ “Well aren’t I lucky,” he smirks and leans in to kiss Derek deeply, like a _thank you_ and also _but I’ll thank you properly later tonight._ “How did I get so lucky?” He murmurs against Derek’s lips and kisses them again.

Derek smiles against his lips. “I should be the one asking that question.” He  strokes Stiles’ soft cheek and grabs his ass with the other hand and _okay too much PDA for the baby._

“Mmm, Derek. I think we’re grossing Noah out.”

Derek laughs. “I don’t think he minds.”

Stiles leans back and smacks Derek on the shoulder. “No. Now finish your food so I can wash the dishes, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Derek says and smacks Stiles’ ass as he walks to the sink.

Stiles totally doesn’t squeal.

~

The aquarium is everything Stiles could ever want and more. It has animals that he didn’t even know could be held in an aquarium. He learns a shit ton of random stuff about stingrays, and they even have polar bears. _Actual_ polar bears. Stiles can tell that’s Noah’s favorite so far.

 _“Derek! Beluga whales!”_ He slams his face on the dirty glass and watches the whales swim around. Derek comes up next to him, one arm securing Noah on his hip and the other arm secured around Stiles’ waist.

“Do you feel like you can die happy now?”

“Um, _yes._ ”

They eat lunch there, and Stiles insists on buying a souvenir cup with a walrus head for a cap. He doesn’t regret it. They buy Noah a stuffed polar bear and Noah practically melts into it. He presses his face into it the rest of the day.

Before they leave, they go back to the polar bears and get their picture taken in front of the glass. Stiles is extremely satisfied at the fact that two out of the three polar bears are in the shot.

When they’re in the car, Stiles lets out a heavy sigh. “That. Was. Amazing. Best date ever. Ten out of ten.”

Derek laughs. “I think Noah enjoyed himself too.” Stiles turns around and is met with a sleeping boy in a car seat, stuffed polar bear snuggled close. “But we still have one more thing to do.”

“Which is…?”

“We’re going to the park. And having a picnic.”

Stiles releases an exaggerated gasp. “My _word,_ Mr. Hale! A picnic? Oh dear I’ve forgotten to bring my parcel along!”

Derek snorts as Stiles breaks character and laughs. “Shush. It’ll be really nice, trust me.”

Stiles rests his hand on Derek’s thigh and pats it. “I know, I’m just kidding. I can’t wait, Noah hasn’t been to the park yet.”

By what Stiles can tell, the park is pretty close to their house. It’s big and green and filled with trees and a nice playground in the distance. Everything a park should be.

Derek sets up everything: blanket, food, drinks, the works. Stiles blushes at the amount of effort Derek put into this. When they sit down and Derek pulls out the sandwiches, Stiles just stares at him.

“What?” Derek asks.

“Do you know how much I love you?”

Derek smiles and looks down at his lap. “Of course. But it’s nice to hear you say it.”

He crawls over to Derek on the other end of the blanket and kisses his nose. “Well I love you a lot.” He kisses his left cheek. “I love you,” his right cheek. “I love you,” his jaw. “I love you.” His mouth. 

Derek smiles at him, kisses the corner of his mouth. “I love you too, baby.” Stiles sits in between Derek’s legs and watches Noah play with his set of plastic keys which he loves more than anything.

Derek packed Stiles a pastrami sandwich, _bless him_ , and his favorite flavor of Lays. Derek really knows how to spoil a guy.

When they’re finished eating and feeding Noah, they dig into Derek’s homemade brownies. “Derek,” Stiles mumbles with a mouthful of brownie, “ _I’m_ the one who makes the desserts around here.” He swallows and sighs with pleasure. “Who gave you the right to make better brownies than me? I don’t know whether to be mad at you or praise you.”

“I’d much rather you praise me,” Derek responds and wipes brownie crumbs off the corner of Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles hums, pretending to think it over. “Maybe after I finish this brownie.” Derek is looking at him weird. It’s not really unusual, but whenever Derek looks at him any differently than usual it’s usually either for no reason at all or because Derek is thinking about something really hard. “What?” Stiles mumbles, mouth full again. “Do I have chocolate on my face?”

Derek just smiles at him and then looks down at his lap.

“Whatever, I’ll worry about it later.” Stiles takes another bite, except something cold and really, _really_ hard nearly cracks his molars. “ _Ow, what the fuck?”_ He spits whatever it is out into his hand and glares at Derek. “Derek, ow, what the hell did you make these brownies with?” Derek is looking at him wide eyed and Stiles looks down at his palm and sees a shiny, silver circle covered in brownie.

His heart kind of stops. It feels like his life is flashing before his eyes, like his life has all been adding up to this exact moment. This can’t possibly be what he thinks it is. His voice cracks as he looks up at Derek and tries to speak. “I—Derek?”

Derek huffs out a laugh and takes the ring gently from Stiles’ palm. “I, uh. I didn’t really mean for you to hurt yourself.” He cleans the ring off with a napkin and Derek stares at it as Stiles stares at him.

“Derek. What is this?”

“Stiles,” he starts, taking a deep breath and releasing. “My beautiful Stiles. I’ve been telling you every day for the past two years how beautiful you are, how incredible you are, how much I love you… And for you to finally realize that I mean what I tell you every day… That’s just. It’s all I could ever ask for. There’s nothing more I want then for you to see yourself how I see you. A beautiful mother, a perfect mate, and I… I want you to truly be my wife. So Stiles,” he grabs Stiles shaking hands in his and squeezes gently. “Will you please do me the honor of marrying me and being my wife?”

And if Stiles wasn’t crying before, well then, he is now. He doesn’t really say anything, just nods his head vehemently and watches as Derek slides the ring on his trembling ring finger and then lifts it to his lips and kisses each finger.

Stiles knocks him over with a kiss.

 

“It’s my grandfather’s, you know,” Derek says quietly in his ear when they’re in bed. Stiles is twirling the ring around his finger. It fits him perfectly. “When he met my grandmother, he just knew she was the one for him. His perfect mate. They got married not even two months later. They had their rings engraved.” Stiles inspects the ring closely, because how the hell didn’t he see that? “O _mnia mea._ It means ‘my everything’ in Latin. And that’s you, Stiles.You’re my everything. Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I knew that you were the one.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really know _what_ to say.

So instead he lands himself on Derek’s lap, straddles him, and kisses him with all the love and affection he can muster until he’s blue in the face.

~

His stomach churns uncomfortably as he waits for his dad to answer the door. Derek is holding, like, a million pounds of steak and potatoes in a bag in one hand and Noah’s stuff in the other, and Stiles is carrying Noah.

When his dad opens the door, Stiles sees the exact same man he left two years ago. Same smile, same crinkles by his eyes. Stiles is actually _back._

“Stiles,” the sheriff breathes out. He goes in for a hug but stops in his tracks when he notices Noah, and Derek next to him. His smile falters and he pats Stiles on the shoulder. “Um. Come in, come in.”

Stiles feels weird, feels awkward, like he just knows that his dad has no idea what’s going on. Which, well, he really doesn’t.

“So,” his dad starts after they sit on the couch in the living room, “this must be Derek.”

Derek leans forward and holds his hand out for the sheriff to shake. “Yes, sir.”

He hesitates for a quick moment before gripping Derek’s hand in a shake. “And who’s this little guy?” He smiles down at Noah.

“This is— um. This is Noah. Our son.” _Can someone just stab Stiles so he doesn’t have to go through this agony?_

His dad’s eyes go insanely wide. “Son. Son? He’s your… I. You didn’t mention a son in the phone call.”

If Stiles heart could just give him a break and stop beating so fucking fast that would be _swell._ “Yeah, well, I—”

“You know, it’s fine. Really, it’s fine. I don’t expect you to tell me everything.”

_Okay?_

“All… Right…”

“So,” Derek declares loudly. Bless him. “How about we cook up these steaks then?”

 

The steak is delicious and juicy and the mashed potatoes are perfectly mashed and everything is actually _okay._ Stiles asks his dad how the Giants have been doing and his dad asks Derek and Stiles about Noah. But how they even got Noah isn’t a question. Which is… Well.

“The steak was delicious, Derek, that was kind of you to make it.” The sheriff claps Derek on the shoulder and nods approvingly at him as they stand by the door. Derek looks absolutely delighted. 

“Well, Stiles is usually the one cooking, all I can make really is mashed potatoes and a good medium rare steak.” They laugh together and Stiles can’t stop thinking how perfectly this went, and how his dad didn’t arrest Derek right on the spot.

“It was really great to see you, dad. I think we’ll come around more regularly, I’m sure Noah would love to see his grandpa more.” Stiles gives him a smile and gives him a tight hug. “I love you, dad. Thanks for being cool about everything.”

His dad looks at him and smiles. “I’m just happy to see you happy, Stiles. And if you tell me you’re happy, then of course I’ll believe you.” His eyes drift to Derek for a split second before looking into Stiles’ eyes again. “Except… Stiles,” he starts, speaking quietly. “I can’t really let you leave with him. You know that, don’t you?”

_What?_

“He’s… He’s a monster. So, I’m sorry this has to end this way, but…” Stiles steps back, heart pounding. No. _No, no no no—_

Before he can even scream anything out, his dad pulls a gun out from his back pocket, aims at Derek’s head, and shoots through his skull.

The last thing he hears is Noah’s cries and his own screaming. The last thing he sees is Derek’s body drop to his knees and then fall forward, blood running from his forehead to the floor before everything goes white.

 

 

“Stiles! _Stiles!_ Wake up, baby, c’mon, just a bad dream, just a bad dream.”

His eyes shoot open, and he’s sweating and panting like he just ran ten miles. The image of Derek’s lifeless eyes open while he lay dead on the floor branded into his mind as his real life Derek strokes his cheek and his arm repetitively. “I— Derek?” He pants, stroking Derek’s cheek and grabbing at his shoulder, just to feel the warm skin, knowing there’s blood flowing through his body; his alive, heated, comforting body.

“Yeah, baby, I’m right here. What happened? What did you dream about?”

“I— Was I screaming?”

Derek breathes out a laugh and pushes Stiles’ sweaty hair out of his face. “Yes, you were. You scared the shit out of me.”

Stiles sighs, heart rate gradually returning back to normal. “I just. I had this dream, and… We went to my dad’s house and when were about to leave he just… _shot_ you. He _shot you, Derek._ ” Oh god, he’s going to start hyperventilating again.

Derek frowns. “Sh… It’s okay… It was just a nightmare, Stiles. No one’s going to shoot me, especially your dad. No need to worry about it.”

Stiles sits up and looks at Derek through wet eyes. “But you don’t _know_ that, Derek! I’ve been here with you for two year! I wouldn’t be surprised if he shot you as soon as he opened the door!”

“Stiles, honey. You’re flailing your arms again.” _Shit,_ he is. “Everything will be fine. No one is getting hurt. Don’t let this dream stop you from wanting to visit your dad.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. Or maybe ten. “You’re right. You’re right. It was just a nightmare. I was just dreaming of a worst case scenario, no need to freak out.”

Derek massaging Stiles shoulders and _oh sweet Jesus_ that feels amazing. “I will never leave you, Stiles. You understand? Nothing will separate us. I promise you.”

Stiles looks at Derek again and smiles, because he believes him. He knows Derek wouldn’t let something like his dad separate them. “Yeah. You’re right.” He plops down, clutching onto Derek’s body like the koala he is.

“Now go to sleep,” Derek whispers into his ear, kissing it and then his head.

So Stiles closes his eyes and waits for his mind to go blank.

Except Noah starts wailing two minutes later. They both groan.

“It’s your turn,” Derek mumbles.

“I just dreamt about _your death,_ Derek. Cut me some slack.”

Derek doesn’t say anything and Stiles already knows he’s victorious. “Fine,” he sighs.

“I love you!” Stiles calls out as Derek makes his way out of their room and into the baby’s room.

Derek turns around and gives Stiles a sleepy smile. “I love you, too.”

Stiles falls asleep before Derek comes back to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, thanks for being patient!! and if you haven't already, let me know how you think this will end, i love hearing what you have to say :) thanks for reading


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles hasn’t been stalling. Nope. Definitely not. He’s just been… Taking his time. His dad can wait.

Except Derek is giving him these looks, like he wants to say something about it but he knows it’s up to Stiles. And Stiles appreciates it. He’s grateful that Derek knows that it’s up to him.

But it’s Noah’s eighteen month birthday and Stiles hasn’t called his dad back or visited him yet after four months. And, well. He knows it’s time.

Derek is cleaning chocolate syrup off of Noah’s face from his birthday sundae when Stiles brings it up.

“So. I think we should go visit my dad soon. Like… Tomorrow, maybe.”

Derek looks up at him and inspects his face. Just sits there and _inspects._ “Okay,” he says.

“I— Really? You’d be okay with that?”

“Well, yeah,” Derek shrugs. “I was fine with it when you brought up the idea four months ago.”

Stiles sighs. “Look, I know it’s been awhile and it’s not really fair to my dad to leave him hanging for this long, but. I don’t know…”

“This is about that dream, isn’t it?”

Stiles knew it. He _knew it._ Derek is too smart for him. “I— Yeah. Yeah it is.”

Derek sighs. “Stiles…”

“I’m just nervous, okay? I don’t know how my dad will react and I just want everything to be alright. I want my dad to realize that everything is alright.”

Derek runs a hand up and down Stiles arm. “Stop worrying. We’ll go tomorrow.”

Before his brain thinks of anything else to freak out about, Noah sticks his hands in his bowl of ice cream and smears it over his open mouth.

~

The first thing he thinks of when he wakes up the next morning is what he’s going to wear.

He opens the closet. _Dress, dress, skirt, blouse, blouse, dress, blouse._

He thinks about what Derek likes best on him. What he feels prettiest in.

There’s that one blouse that’s teal and chiffon-y. He loves that one. But the buttons don’t cover up his tits good enough and Derek would never let him leave the house like that.

He has that pencil skirt that Derek bought him a while ago. It makes him feel good, makes him feel confident. But Derek only likes when he wears it when he’s in a _mood_ so that probably wouldn’t be best to wear.

He finds the one pair of jeans Derek bought him and decides to put those on. They’re nice and casual, even though they’re nearly impossible to get over his ass, but whatever, they make him look good. He finds his favorite lavender cardigan and puts that on with a tank top underneath. Perfect.

He’s putting a second coat of mascara on when Derek comes in the bathroom. He grabs Stiles gently around the waist and kisses his neck. “You look beautiful.”

Stiles tries not to smile. “Thanks.”

Derek looks at his outfit, gaze stopping at Stiles ass. “Your ass looks amazing in those jeans, baby.”

Stiles snorts. “Yeah, you’ve only told me that, like, a billion times.”

Derek smacks his rear without responding. “You almost ready? I’m going to pack Noah some snacks and then we can head out.”

“It’s fine, I’m ready. I don’t trust you with packing Noah snacks, you’ll probably just pack him cupcakes.”

Derek frowns. “I— No. No I wouldn’t.”

Stiles turns around in Derek’s arms and grabs his face in both hands. “Yes, you would. Now let’s leave before I keel over with nerves.” He kisses Derek before leaving the bathroom.

~

Beacon Hills looks the same. Looks just like how he left it.

They drive past the high school on their way to his house. It sparks in his mind that he was meant to graduate over a year ago. He was going to graduate high school, get his diploma, and then go to Costa Rica with Scott for their graduation trip. That had been their plan since freshman year, something they had raised money for.

And Stiles wasn’t there.

For some reason it’s not leaving as big of a hole in his gut as it should be. The trip to Costa Rica was such a trivial thing, after all. He has a life with Derek now. They’re getting married and they have Noah. A trip to Costa Rica sounds so ridiculous to him now, when he knows that that’s not what his life was leading up to.

He looks behind him to Noah, who’s sleeping peacefully in his car seat. Derek rests his hand on Stiles’ thigh and says, “You are so beautiful.”

And yeah, this is all he really needs.

 

 

The house still looks the same. Shocker.

When they park, Derek has to unbuckle Stiles’ belt and tug him out of the seat because Stiles just simply can’t _move._

They grab all their shit; Derek has the steak and Noah, and Stiles has Noah’s bag.

The amount of willpower it takes him to ring the doorbell is insane.

The sheriff opens the door not even thirty seconds later. And when he does… He just. Stiles can’t stop looking.

He expected his dad to look the same, and well, he does. But there’s something about him that’s so different. He has noticeable dark circles under his eyes, and his hair is thinner. And his eyes… Dull eyes brightening and becoming clear after what must have been months as he looks at Stiles.

He doesn’t hear his dad say his name. Doesn’t hear the _“S-stiles? Is that really you?”_ He’s too busy re-memorizing every detail of his face. He’s being guided gently inside by Derek and _wow_ the smell is overwhelmingly nostalgic. The only thing different is that it smells too much like cheap beer.

Before he knows it, he’s being pulled into a bone crushing hug. It’s weird. He hasn’t had physical contact with anyone other than Derek or Noah in over two years. He’s not really sure how he’s expected to hug back, but he does. Pats his dad on the back awkwardly and waits for him to release.

He’s saying all these things in his ear. _“I’ve missed you so much, Stiles. You have no idea how happy I am to have you back. I love you so much, Stiles. I thought you weren’t going to come back, Stiles. Everything will be okay again. I promise, I promise.”_ Stiles doesn’t know what his dad’s definition of _okay_ is, but he just nods and tries to relax his stiff body in his dad’s arms.

Finally, his dad lets go. He grasps Stiles’ shoulders and looks at him. Really looks at him. The more he looks at his son’s face, the faster the brightness from his eyes dissipates.

“Stiles… Your… Your hair got long.” Is what he starts off with. “I— Are you wearing…” The rest of his question drifts off and Stiles feels incredibly uncomfortable. He wants to go back. This was a bad idea. “I, um,” he continues. “Nevermind.” 

He looks away from his son, probably feeling weird too, and finally, _finally_ , lets his gaze drift to Derek. “You’re Derek,” he states, voice low, the same voice he uses when he’s trying to be the bad cop. “You’re the son of a bitch who took my son away from me.”

“Dad.”

“Yes, that would be me, sir,” Derek says, holding his hand out for the sheriff to shake.

He doesn’t shake it.

Stiles feels like his dad’s glare is going to burn right through Derek’s skull and _God this is too much._

“Who’s the baby?”

This visit is already so splendid.

“This is, um. This is Noah. He’s our son.”

The sheriff is just kind of staring at Stiles. He’s giving him that look that’s making Stiles feel like he’s ten kinds of crazy.

“He’s your… Son.”

“Yes.”

He looks at Noah again, and then glares at Derek. “So, what? You kidnapped a baby too and decide to call him your child? What kind of sick bastard are—”

“Dad! Dad, he’s ours. Really ours. You have to believe me.”

“Stiles, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I was pregnant. With Noah. Noah is ours, dad.”

His dad looks at him, like he’s ten seconds away from throwing him in the looney bin. He turns to Derek. “What the hell have you done to my son, you bastard? Making him believe he was pregnant with this poor kid? What are you drugging him with?” The sheriff shoves Derek in the shoulder, not really able to do much because of Noah in his arms and _God dammit._

Before Derek can say anything, the door opens. “Hey Mr. S, whose Camaro is that out there? I didn’t know you knew anyone that cool.”

_Scott._

“You gotta tell…” He stops when he sees them. Sees Stiles. “Stiles? Is that— Stiles is that you?”

“Scott,” he says a little breathless. He feels like he just got punched in the gut. “Hey, bud.” The term sounds foreign coming from his mouth, even though it’s something he used to call him all the time. Maybe? Stiles’ memories went fuzzy ages ago.

He has an armful of Scott seconds later, and it feels kind of good. But it’s not really… Right. It feels weird being hugged by someone he used to call his best friend. “Stiles, I’ve missed you so much, man. Your dad told me to stay out of the search but I never listened to him. I looked _everywhere_ for you, dude,” he says in Stiles’ neck as he continues to cling on. Scott finally pulls back and looks at him. His face contorts a bit. “What… What happened to you? Why are you… What are you wearing?”

The confusion in his voice and the weird look he’s giving Stiles feels like a stab in the chest. Stiles doesn’t go out much. He’s only used to what Derek has to say about how he looks. Derek is the one that buys his clothes. And Scott is just looking at him like he doesn’t get it, and he doesn’t know what to say about it because it’s _weird._ But Stiles stopped caring about it long ago. This is just who he is.

Stiles looks down at his outfit. He really likes this cardigan. “I’m… Wearing clothes?”

“Are you wearing _mascara_?”

Derek clears his throat.

Scott turns to look at him and gives him a nod. “Hey, man, I’m Scott. Is that your ride out there?”

“That would be mine. I’m Derek.”

And Stiles is sure that if this were a cartoon Scott would have steam coming out of his ears. “ _You’re Derek_?”

Scott punches him in the jaw. _Awesome._

“You’re the sick fuck who took my best friend? You son of a bitch, I’ll kill you right—”

“ _Scott. Enough,_ ” Stiles intervenes after the third punch. “Punching him isn’t going to do anything!”

“He kidnapped you, Stiles! He’s kept you for two years! He’s lucky your dad didn’t shoot him as soon as he stepped foot in this house!” Scott goes for another punch, but Derek stops him, grabbing his fist and lowering his hand.

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped punching me. If you didn’t realize, I’m holding a child.” Derek is so calm. Stiles wants to kiss him.

“What, did you kidnap a baby too?”

God, Stiles would always hate when Scott got mad. It would always take him so long to cool off and he never listened to anyone else. This isn’t going to be any different.

“Stiles’ dad assumed the same thing. No, I didn’t kidnap a baby. The baby is ours.”

Stiles almost wants to laugh, because Scott is so thrown off that it’s like he forgot he was angry. “He’s— What?”

“Ours. His name is Noah,” Stiles says.

Scott snorts out a humorless laugh. “That’s funny, Stiles. What kind of sick mind games has he been playing with you?”

“I— What? None.” Stiles figured that they wouldn’t listen to what he had to say, but the assumptions are making him feel like he has this unscratchable itch and it’s irritating and they just _don’t get it._ “Listen. I didn’t _have_ to come back. This was my choice. I thought you might have wanted to know that everything is fine, and get to know Derek like I have.”

“That’s gold,” his dad sneers. “You think you know him, Stiles? He’s a manipulating bastard who’s messed with your mind. Have you not looked in the mirror and seen what he’s done to you? You don’t even look like my son anymore!”

Stiles’ vision is getting fuzzy around the edges and he— He can’t deal with this. Not right now. Not from his dad. He looks at Derek, eyes pleading. “Derek. Help me, please.”

Derek responds immediately, taking the few short steps to Stiles’ side and the warmth already makes him feel ten times better. Noah leans towards Stiles in Derek’s arms, trying to get his attention. “Mama,” he babbles, and Stiles’ dad looks like he might be sick.

Stiles’ ignores the _“Did he just say mama?”_ from Scott and grabs his son. He holds him securely in his arm and taps his little nose. “Hi, baby, I’m right here, it’s okay.” This is what he needs to stay calm. This is his anchor, right here in his arms. His baby boy, so oblivious to the tension in the room with these people Stiles used to trust with his whole life.

“Stiles,” his dad says as firmly as he can. “I would like to talk to you alone. Please, son.” His voice is calmer at least.

Stiles looks at Derek, trying to get some kind of clue of what he should do. “I— I don’t really… I think that whatever you want to say to me, you can say in front of Derek, dad.” Derek rubs a palm over Stiles’ hip.

Stiles’ dad takes a deep breath and glares at Derek before turning his attention to Stiles. “Son. I know that you think that you’re happy with this man, but all he’s done is brainwash you. He’s messed with your head, made you into someone you’re not, Stiles. I know it’s hard for you to take in, but you have to listen to me and trust me. What you have with this man, it’s— it’s not real. He doesn’t love you, Sti—”

“Alright, I think that’s enough,” Derek barks. Stiles feels like his dad, this man who used to feed him, take him to baseball games, buy him video games, has just shot him in the stomach. If Derek wasn’t gripping his waist securely then he’s sure he’d collapse by now. “Mr. Stilinski, I sincerely wish we could have grilled up those steaks this evening but I think it’s time Stiles and I head home.”

His dad’s eyes go wide, filled with fire. “ _Home?_ Stiles, this is your home! Your life is here with me. And Scott, in Beacon Hills. I can’t let you go with him. I’m not letting this bastard take you away again!” Through the anger boiling in his voice, Stiles can hear the desperation, and Stiles’ really wishes his dad could have been more understanding.

They slowly start making their way to the door, until Derek freezes. “Stiles,” he murmurs. “Stiles, he called them. He called the police, they’re coming, I can hear them coming.”

Stiles’ heart lodges in his throat as he shoots his gaze up to Derek, who’s staring at the door, nostrils flaring. “Stiles, we need to get out of here.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” the sheriff growls.

Stiles stares at his dad, vision blurring as he stares at this man that he thought he trusted. “Dad. I— You promised. You swore to me you wouldn’t call them!”

“Stiles, I’m sorry,” he chokes. “I did this for—”

“For me? Is that what you’re going to say? You did this for me? Why can’t you believe me when I tell you I love him? This is who I am, dad, you don’t know what’s best for me!”

“Stiles, I—”

“Stiles. Stiles, they’re _here, they’re—_ ”

The front door slams open, guns cocking and five cops storm in tearing Derek’s grip from Stiles’ side and _no this can’t be happening, please—_

“On your knees, asshole!” One of them says, while another quickly cuffs Derek’s wrists behind his back.

His pleas for them to stop and to uncuff him are drowned out by the orders being called out and the walkie-talkies and Noah’s wailing. His baby boy is crying so hard, doesn’t understand why his daddy is being shoved outside.

His dad tries to hold him back from going after Derek, but he— he _can’t_ let this happen. He can’t let them take him away from him, from Noah.

He reaches Derek right before they shove him in the car, grabs his shoulder, touches his cheek, just to feel him before they take him and _he can’t let this happen—_ “Derek. Derek baby, what am I going to do? I can’t— Derek, I _don’t know what to do._ ” The cops try to detach Stiles from Derek’s shoulder, and every grab feels like a burn.

Derek gives him a smile, even though the cops are pushing his face into the car. “Everything will be okay. I promise you, princess. Everything will work out. Just take care of Noah while I’m gone, and make sure he knows that his mommy and daddy will be back together really soon, okay, baby?”

“Alright that’s enough, get in the car you son of a bitch,” one of the cops barks.

“Derek. Derek, I—” They shut the car door before he can finish. _“I don’t know if I can do this,”_ is what he wanted to say, but the car skids off with Derek in it and Stiles feels like they dragged his heart out with a fishing pole and took it with them.

There are still two cops outside with him and Noah. One of them grips his shoulder and it feels like an electric shock to have someone else touching him, trying to be comforting. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to worry about that bastard ever again. You’re home now, boy.”

He loses feeling in his legs and drops to his knees on his old front yard. Noah is still crying in his arms. _No, no he’s not home._

“Stiles?” His dad is kneeling next to him now, but he sounds so far away. “Stiles, everything will be okay. I know my son is still in there, and I’m going to help get him out, okay? I’m so grateful to have you back home, son.”

Stiles really wishes they would stop calling it home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow okay so before you say "what why wouldn't he just kill the cops why is he going with them" well, that would cause quite the mess wouldn't it? i think it would just cause a plethora of terrible things. So, for that reason, Derek is keeping the wolf shit on the DL. i hope this chapter didn't suck too bad? this was a toughy. but thank you so much for reading i love every single one of you that read and leave kudos and comments seriously thanks <3 the end is almost here, be ready!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW IT'S BEEN THREE WEEKS AND THE END IS FINALLY HERE. I apologize for the wait. AND IM WARNING YOU NOW: none of this happens in real life. Is it believable? No, probably not. But thank you all for reading anyway :)

When he opens his eyes, he’s on a couch.

He hears Scott sigh next to him. “Oh, thank God,” Scott says, face a little too close for comfort.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Stiles, you had a panic attack out front and passed out. We carried you to the couch,” he says.

Everything clicks then, why he was out front in the first place, why he had a panic attack. Derek, he—

He hears a baby crying from the other room.

“Where the fuck is Noah?” He growls, sitting up, probably too fast.

“Relax, he’s with your dad in the kitchen.”

The thought of his dad holding his and Derek’s son makes him cringe, his stomach going cold. The same man that took his Derek away from him is holding his son, acting like he gives a shit. He shoots up off the couch before Scott can respond and heads to the kitchen.

“Stiles, you’re awake,” his dad says, sounding relieved, but also wary.

“Give me my son now, please.”

“I— Yeah, of course,” he holds a wailing Noah out to Stiles, his small, chubby face red and blotchy from crying. He probably hasn’t even _stopped._

“Hey, hey, hey, shh. It’s okay, baby, no need to cry, mommy’s here. It’s alright, shh.” He bounces Noah softly in his arms and rubs his back, humming and hushing in his baby boy’s ear. Noah quiets down substantially, but is still whining and fussy.

“You didn’t think to try and find his pacifier?” He barks at his dad.

“I-I—”

“Whatever. Doesn’t matter.” He stomps off and finds Noah’s bag, dropped on the ground close to the front door, where Stiles probably let it go while all the commotion was going on. _While Derek got taken away._

“Stiles, you okay?” Scott says, trying to reach out to him, but Stiles feels like if anyone tries to touch him he’ll turn into a molten puddle.

He goes to the only place he can think of going to— his old room.

 

 

Noah’s sitting on Stiles’ stomach, short little legs on either side of his waist. Stiles is playing with Noah’s hands; his tiny, warm hands, that curl around Stiles’ fingers, one at a time. The tiny hands that love to play with Stiles’ ring. His handsome little boy.

“Looks like it’s you and me right now,” Stiles mumbles, using Noah’s hand to point between them both. “What do you think, huh? Think you can deal without daddy for a little bit? Cause I don’t think I can. But guess what? Everything will be okay, just like daddy said.” He has a hard time believing it himself. “But you’re my best little boy and you’ll keep me sane right?”

Noah tries to stick his fist in his mouth and gurgles. Yeah, that’s confirmation enough.

 

 

His dad knocks on the door three times before giving up. Good.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but when he does he panics when he sees that the room is dark now, and he left Noah unattended. But when he whips his head around the bed, he sees his boy sleeping quietly right next to him. He sighs and drops his head on the pillow.

Five minutes later there’s a tentative knock on the door.

“Dad, how many times do I have to tell you to fuck off,” he says, not as loudly as he would like to, but Noah is sleeping and he’d like to keep it that way.

“It’s um— It’s Scott.”

Scott.

After thinking about it for about a minute and a half, Stiles carefully gets out of bed and opens the door.

He looks at Scott for a minute. “I forgot how crooked your jaw is.”

Scott laughs roughly, but still genuine. “Shut up, man,” he says, and gives him a painfully sincere smile. He looks like he’s thinking about hugging Stiles, but decides not to. Stiles moves aside to let him in.

“So… How are… Um. How are you doing?” Scott tries.

_How is he doing?_

“Well, my fiancé was just arrested and Noah is probably going to cry my ear off as soon as he wakes up. I feel like my stomach is the temperature of Greenland and my hands are shaking like I’ve drunk two gallons of coffee. But other than that, I’m great.”

Scott goes a little pale. “Your… Fiancé?”

Stiles smiles briefly and holds out his hand displaying the ring. “Yeah. Isn’t it amazing? It was Derek’s grandfather’s.”

Scott opens and closes his mouth five times before giving up and sighing. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I figured.”

Stiles sits on the bed and Scott follows him, plopping heavily on the comforter.

“Hey watch it,” Stiles growls, smacking Scott’s shoulder. “Don’t you see Noah’s sleeping?”

“Oh- I— Sorry, um—”

“Look, Scott. I can see you’re uncomfortable. Why don’t you just say what you wanted to say and get it over with.”

Scott looks at Stiles for a long time. Looking at his every feature, and Stiles almost shoves him out of the room until—

“You… You’re not the same, Stiles.”

“Of course I am.”

“No, you’re… Look. I know that abduction can take a heavy toll on a person’s mind. Trust me, Scott, when your dad told me to butt out of the search party I sat on my ass for hours researching everything on abduction and what the effects can be and usually are. The more I read the more terrified I got for you. Not to mention I had no idea if you were even alive—”

“Of course I was alive,” Stiles speaks as Scott continues.

“—and there was no way of knowing. It was so hard, Stiles. I didn’t know what he was doing to you. And then you come home unannounced months after you talk to your dad and you’re… I don’t know.”

“I’m what, Scott?” He doesn’t need to hear another version of _“You don’t even look like my son anymore.”_ He doesn’t want it.

Scott can obviously sense that Stiles is getting angry, so he treads carefully. “You’re… Just different. That’s all. But I should have expected some change, considering how long-"

“Scott, you know I love you, man. And I know you’re worried about me, but you really don’t need to be. I’ve been happy. Isn’t that what a best friend should want for their best friend? For them to be happy?” Stiles says, voice calm.

Scott blinks at him. “I— Well, yeah, Stiles. Of course. But… Your relationship with Derek is…"

“Please, tell me exactly how my relationship with Derek is,” Stiles snaps, voice getting harder. He’s sick of his dad and Scott telling him what they think they know.

“I—” Scott goes pink in the cheeks. Stiles almost smiles at it, because Scott used to always get flustered when he was put on the spot. Especially in geometry when he was forced to solve problems on the board and explain them. Stiles would laugh every time Scott would go red, but right now he’s not really in the mood.

“Actually, Stiles. How about you tell me about Derek?”

“What? You— Really?” Is this some reverse psychology bullshit?

“Yeah.” Scott gives him an encouraging smile.

“I— Um. Okay.” He smiles, looking back at Noah, who’s still sleeping soundly, and then looks down at his hands, and the ring on his finger.

Where does he even begin?

“Derek is… incredible. He’s caring, smart, gentle… Not to mention sexy, oh my _god_ and his _hands—_ ” he doesn’t have to look over at Scott to know that he’s as red as a tomato. “—he’s just… Gorgeous. Inside and out. The way he takes care of Noah is everything I could have ever asked for. He loves Noah so much, and always tries to give him sweets when he thinks I’m not looking, and he was so sweet during my pregnancy. He got me everything I asked for, dealt with my complaining every step of the way. He… Makes me feel good about myself, y’know? Like I’m a queen. He’s always telling me how beautiful I am to him and always gives me compliments… He makes me feel like I’m his entire world. Me and Noah.” He pauses for a minute, smiling and feeling warm for the first time in hours as he thinks about Derek. “He’s… Everything. My everything.” He twirls the ring slowly around his finger.

After five minutes of silence, Scott finally speaks up. “I… Wow.”

Stiles sighs. “I wish you would have gotten a chance to get to know him.”

Scott doesn’t say anything for a long time.

“Tell me how you met, Stiles.”

Stiles whips his head towards Scott’s profile and frowns. “Um. Excuse me?”

“How did you two meet?” Scott asks, just as clearly and calmly.

“We— I. You already know, I don’t know why you’re asking.”

“Well it seems like I really don’t know all that much. So I’d like to hear it from you.” He gives Stiles a smile.

“Derek, he, um. We met in his room.”

“How did you get to his room, exactly?”

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Just curious.”

“He— Took me there.”

“Took you there? And you were aware of what was happening, right?”

“I— No, I wasn’t, I don’t see how that—”

“So he took you to his house without your consent? That doesn’t sound very romantic.”

“Scott…”

“And did you—”

“Alright, that’s enough, Scott! Stop trying to fuck with my head!” He yells, shooting up from the bed and shoving Scott’s shoulders.

Scott looks up at him, wide-eyed, but before he can say anything, Noah starts wailing. Awesome.

Stiles sighs and gets in bed to pick up Noah and hold him to his chest. “Shh, shh. I’m sorry, baby. Mommy got a little angry, I’m sorry I woke you up, baby boy. If daddy was here he’d already be out of the house on his way to get you ice cream I bet. That always gets you quiet, hm? How about we put that binky back in your mouth.” Stiles grabs the pacifier that fell out of Noah’s mouth when he started crying and goes silent immediately. “We’ll get you fed soon too, don’t you worry.” He smiles at his son and pokes his nose with a finger. Noah reaches up and grabs Stiles’ nose with his little hand.

Stiles forgets Scott’s in the room until he speaks. “Stiles, I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you, and I think you’re so far gone for this guy that you’re not getting the big picture.”

“And what exactly is the big picture?”

“The big picture? The big picture is that you’re in love with the man who abducted you. And I care about you too much to not get you help, Stiles.”

He’s so frustrated that he feels like he’s going to burst. He feels the ache behind his eyes, and he knows that if Scott doesn’t shut the fuck up he’s going to cry.

“I don’t need help, Scott,” he says quietly.

“Once we get that son of a bitch in prison for good we’ll get you help, okay?” And Scott sounds so hopeful and so glad that he’s finally able to do this, and Stiles can’t take it anymore.

He feels the sign of a hot tear dropping on his cheek. Damn it. “Scott,” he whispers. “Scott, you don’t… I— I can’t live without him, you know?” His voice breaks. “I can’t live in a world where Derek’s not by my side. I— I’m so cold when I’m not with him. It eats away at me the longer he’s away.” He smiles thinking about Derek, about how warm he is when he’s with him. “I don’t want him to be gone forever, Scott. I love him too much for him to be gone forever. Noah needs his dad. He can’t be without a dad.”

Scott listens and looks at Stiles with pity. So much pity. “Stiles, he will have a dad. You are his dad,” he says softly.

Stiles shakes his head. “I’m not. I’m his mom.”

Scott sighs heavily. “Okay, Stiles.”

 

Scott and Stiles lay on Stiles’ old bed for what feels like hours. Stiles stares up at the ceiling while Noah pats at his stomach.

“He looks just like you.”

Stiles looks over at Scott. “You think?”

“Yeah.”

“He has Derek’s mouth.”

Scott doesn’t say anything.

Stiles thinks Scott’s fallen asleep a half hour later until he speaks. “You know your relationship with Derek isn’t healthy, right?”

“I don’t see why.”

“He kidnapped you.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything for awhile.

“I know.”

Scott turns to him and smiles. “That’s all that matters right now.”

Stiles closes his eyes.

 

He wakes up at two in the morning. He changes Noah’s diaper while Scott snores on the bed. He forgot how loudly Scott snores.

When he wakes up again, it’s light outside and there’s a quiet knock at the door.

Stiles groans.

“You’re going to have to talk to him, Stiles. He just cares about you.”

“He took Derek away from me.”

There’s a pause. “Derek took you away from him.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything.

“What do you want?” He calls out.

“I, um. I just wanted to tell you that the cops have to ask you some questions about everything later today. They need to hear your side of things.” His voice is quiet and a little scratchy. Stiles knows his dad is trying to keep his voice sounding strong, but it’s not working.

Stiles sighs. Of course they need to ask questions. “Alright.”

There’s silence on the other side of the door. “Alright,” his dad says. “Breakfast is made downstairs if you’re hungry, son.”

 

His dad takes him to the station three hours later. He would have driven himself but he wasn’t comfortable being in charge of driving. He hasn’t driven in so long, and he’d only been driving a year when Derek showed up.

They sit quietly during the drive, Stiles turning up the volume on the radio, listening to music he’s never heard before.

He hasn’t listened to music in two years.

He hasn’t driven a car in two years.

Has he been deprived? Is he deprived? No, that’s impossible. Derek gives him everything he needs.

_Then why haven’t you listened to your favorite band since Scott’s house two years ago?_

Derek knows what Stiles needs, of course. Everything else is simply trivial.

_Like the amount of sun your skin has taken in since you’ve been with Derek? You’re as white as a sheet. No make up can cover that._

He needs to take care of Noah and their home. He’s not deprived of sunlight, he’s just doing what he does best. Being a mom and a wife.

_You’re lying to yourself. You’re just a psychopath’s bitch._

Stiles feels like he’s going to puke. His conscience won’t shut the fuck up. It has to be from not being with Derek for this long. He’s going crazy.

_You’ve lost your mind months ago, Stiles._

“Dad, I feel sick, I need you to pull over.”

His dad looks over at him quickly. “Are you alright? We’re pulling up to the station right now, just let me—”

As soon as they come to a stop, Stiles pushes the door open and hurls. His dad rubs his back while he’s keeled over and it’s never felt so nice.

 

They give him water when he gets inside the station. How polite and friendly.

He asks where Derek is but no one really tells him. Fine.

They take him to their cozy grey room with the cold table. Comfort at it’s finest.

“How have you been doing?” They ask, trying to play the sweet and understanding cop that asks more hard-hitting questions as the interrogation goes on. Stiles knows how these guys play their game.

Stiles knows how to lie. It runs naturally through his veins. It’s a talent, some might say. He once gave a lengthy story to his fifth grade teacher on how his nonexistent dog really _did_ eat his homework. He’s lied his way out of speeding tickets, detentions, family events.

So he lies. He tells them they’ve got the story wrong. Derek and Stiles had been dating months before the alleged abduction, he says. Stiles was so worried about how his homophobic and judgmental father may think about Stiles’ sexuality that he kept his relationship with Derek on the DL. Stiles told Derek that he wanted to run away and never look back. They would live by themselves, away from his father, and get new phones. Stiles admits how it was so very difficult at first to cut off this connection with his father, but he just knew it was the right thing to do. Derek and Stiles lived in their home thirty minutes from his very own Beacon Hills happily.

The cops eat it up.

Stiles almost wishes it was a little bit harder.

They ask him follow up questions of course. “Why did you decide to come back and see your father?”, “Why didn’t you tell your father this when you returned home?”, “What about the child? We heard their was a child.”

Because when it comes down to it, the cops never had proof of a kidnapping to begin with. There were no eye witnesses. If Stiles could high five himself, he would.

They tell him they’ll run over his story and speak with Derek.

He already knows he’s won.

 

That night, when his dad is sitting at the kitchen table rubbing his fingers deep against his temple while the other fingers flip absently through a newspaper, Stiles comes down from his room, walks up to him, and hugs him. His dad pauses for a second before instinctively turning toward Stiles and wrapping his arms around his son, squeezing tight.

“I love you, son. You know that, don’t you?”

He presses his face in his dad’s neck and lets out a deep breath. “I know,” he says. They stand there in silence for what feels like hours before Stiles speaks again. “I love you, too,” he mumbles against his dad’s neck.

“Everything works out how it’s suppose to work out, Stiles,” his dad says, voice calm in the quiet kitchen.

And Stiles knows. He knows it.

 

 

It’s four days later when they get word on Derek.

Well, when the sheriff gets word on Derek. Stiles knows because he can tell his dad is hiding something from him.

“Spill, dad. You’re terrible at keeping things in,” Stiles calls out patiently while feeding Noah his breakfast.

“What? It’s nothing,” he tries.

“That’s hilarious. But seriously tell me.”

His dad looks down and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s uh, about Derek.”

Here it comes.

“And?”

“They, um. They’re releasing him.”

Stiles’ stomach does something weird. It squirms and heats up at the same time. “Are you serious?”

“They said that there wasn’t enough proof that this was a kidnapping,” his dad says gruffly. “That’s a load of bullshit,” he growls, knocking his chair over. It’s louder than it should be as it crashes on the ground.

Stiles flinches. “Dad, it’s alright—”

“It’s not, Stiles! This relationship you have with him… It’s not healthy.”

“Dad, it’s not… It’s not unhealthy. He treats me so well, and you don’t see it. He’s been everything for me.”

“Because he’s left you no other choice, Stiles.”

Stiles feels a metaphorical punch to the gut with that one. It’s… That’s not true. Derek gives him lots of choices. Like… What to make for dinner… And what direction he wants the rug to go when he vacuums. “Dad… Don’t- Don’t say stuff like that.”

“I have to, son. Otherwise you won’t understand,” he huffs.

“I understand that Derek loves me and he- he— We’re raising Noah and I— There’s nothing else to understand because that’s how things work, dad. My life isn’t— My life isn’t in Beacon Hills anymore. I’m tired of you and Scott fucking with my head. You have to stop before I lose my mind—”

_You’ve already lost your mind. Look how much you’re defending the guy that kidnapped your ass._

His face feels cold and his ears are ringing. “I’m going to my room now,” he mumbles.

There’s nothing wrong with his relationship with Derek.

Right?

Derek loves him.

Right?

He needs Derek back. He’s unraveling by the minute and Derek isn’t here to pick up the string.

He drives to the station, Noah in his car seat behind him. Fuck his uncertainty about driving. He manages to get there without an accident.

When he sees Derek for the first time in days, his heart nearly bursts.

He’s sitting on a bench in the station, officers keeping an eye on him. He stands up when he sees Stiles and Noah and Stiles runs up to Derek as carefully as he can with Noah in his arms. As soon as he’s within arms length, Derek grabs the sides of his face with both of his warm hands and kisses him hard. _God_ Stiles has missed that. The cold, hollow feeling in his stomach has dissipated immediately as Derek breaths hot and heavily on his neck.

“Missed you,” Stiles mumbles into Derek’s neck.

“I missed you more,” Derek says back.

He’s missed Derek’s warmth so much. “Thought they’d convince you to stay away from me. Thought I’d never see you again.”

Stiles flinches, all the thoughts he’s been having the last few days about his relationship with Derek flooding back to him.

Derek must have felt Stiles flinch, because he pulls back and stares at him with so much concern and an overly-stubbly jaw that it hurts. “What? What’s wrong?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Nothing. Let’s just get out of here, okay? I can’t believe they’re actually letting you go.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re not the only convincing one,” Derek smirks. He looks down at Noah and his eyes light up even more. “Hi, my beautiful boy. Daddy missed you, too. So, so, _so_ much.” He takes Noah into his arms and kisses his face all over.

Stiles beams as their little boy says “Dada, dada,” over and over again. This is how it should be. Everything is alright again.

 

 

_Hi Dad._

_You should know how much I hate writing letters. But I’m writing you this because I can’t man up about anything. I can’t even be a man at all. I’m letting you know that I’m going back home with Derek and Noah. My actual home. I know you think I’m messed up, even if you haven’t said those exact words. I know you’re thinking this because I know I’m messed up, too. I’ve figured out a lot of things while I’ve been in your house, but whenever I look at Noah, I realize none of it seems to matter. I love Derek. I can’t do anything about it, dad. I wish there was some way to make you feel better, but I don’t know how. Just know that I love you. And I’ll see you later._

_Love, Stiles_

 

He should be feeling regret or something equally as bitter as he shoves the letter under the front door of his old house, but he doesn’t.

Stopping at Scott’s is a last minute choice. He’d feel weird leaving without saying bye to his best friend.

He tells Derek it’d be best if he went in alone. So he does. He tells Scott that he’s going back with Derek and all Scott does is sigh sadly and say, “I hope you know what you’re doing,” which is better then punching Stiles in the face.

“I’m gonna miss you, man. Please don’t disappear on me. Come back sometime at least, alright?”

He can promise that, at least.

On the way home, while Derek is holding Stiles hand as he drives, Stiles can’t help the thoughts swirling around in the back of his head.

“You love me, right?” He blurts out, his face heating up immediately.

Derek looks at him briefly and frowns. “Is that even a question? Of course I love you. More than anything in this world.”

Stiles soaks that in for a minute. Derek is always so genuine. It’s comfortably quiet until—

“Then why did you kidnap me?”

The car jerks slightly. “What? What kind of question is that?”

Stiles shuts his eyes tightly, as if bracing for an impact. “If you love me, then why did you kidnap me?”

It’s silent for a minute, Derek obviously going over his answers— _excuses—_ and then clears his throat. “Because I know you wouldn’t have wanted me otherwise.”

Stiles huffs. “I don’t see how kidnapping someone could be the answer. You  could have talked to me.”

“You wouldn’t have been interested. I was the socially inept nobody that was known for never leaving Beacon Hills after high school. After I realized you were straight, I tried to find an alternative.”

“So you kidnapped me.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call it that.”

“Derek—”

“I just wanted you to see how beautiful you were. How much I could love you and show you how special you are.” His voice gets quiet and husky. “I just wanted you to know.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything for a while. They drive in a weird silence, the only sound is the pavement underneath the tires and Noah’s soft snoring.

“I love you, Derek,” Stiles finally says. “I just want _you_ to know that.” He rubs a thumb over Derek’s hard knuckles.

Derek smiles and sighs, looking over at Stiles with the same warmth and love he’s shown since the beginning. “I know. And that’s all I could ever want.”

Stiles keeps looking at Derek’s profile even after he’s turned back to face the road. He sees the man that smiled at him as he confined him to his bed, he sees the man that took him from Scott’s bed in the middle of the night two years ago, and he also sees the man that made him mac n cheese that day, and the man that held him and their son every night, and the man that proposed on a blanket in the middle of a park. The man he wants to marry and grow old with more than anything in this world.

And Stiles feels it in his bones that that’s how it’s supposed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAIT BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE I THOUGHT THIS WAS SUPER CUTE AND REMINDED ME OF STEREK AND NOAH NEWIFKNFSNJ http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2012/363/e/7/sterek_family_by_the_blind_writer-d5kvyu1.jpg
> 
> anyway.
> 
> ok, I know that there are going to be some people that hate me and some people that are somewhat happy. do the cops let someone accused of kidnapping go just like that? well no. but who cares in the world of fanfiction right? ;)
> 
> this was a little more sad than i was planning on it to be but ever since the beginning i was planning on sterek endgame even though some of you might think that's terrible.
> 
> epilogue? hell yeah, you better count on it.
> 
> just wanted to say thank you for everyone that read and commented, this got a lot more reads than i thought it would and i love you all for reading <3 don't delete your bookmark just yet bc an epilogue will be coming ;) :)
> 
> leave a comment if you'd like, just don't talk too much shit pls omg


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